


The Right Way Around

by fictionalportal



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Humor, Catra thinks she's smart but surprise she's a disaster, Disaster Lesbian Catra, F/F, Gen, HSAU, Homecoming Dance, Humor, I promise, It's still gonna be as gay as the show, Mutual Pining, Other, Rivalry, Slow Burn, Sports, Suuuuuuuper slow burn, Texting, big time, but like angst in the context of high school, field hockey, oblivious adora, u kno how it be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-09-01 17:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 62,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16769530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalportal/pseuds/fictionalportal
Summary: Presenting: a She-Ra field hockey HSAU."Between the banter and the familiar little touches, they knew what they meant to each other. They’d known since Adora had defended Catra against a fifth grader who’d kicked over her sand castle at the beach. Ever since that Tuesday afternoon, they’d been inseparable..."Bright Moon High rekindles its vicious rivalry with Hordak Academy by poaching their star field hockey player, Adora. Unfortunately for The Bright Moon Rebels, Catra isn't letting her best friend go without a fight.





	1. Chapter 1

Most high school field hockey coaches were content with a regular old whistle, but not Coach Weaver. No, hers was customized, Catra was sure. Between the matte black finish and the monogrammed engraving, the whistle could only have been the world’s most weirdly specific birthday present. Weaver had probably gotten it for herself. The thought made Catra chuckle, at least until the eardrum-shredding screech split out over the field again. Catra knew she was out of position--she was always out of position--and Weaver was incredibly meticulous about formation when the team was learning new plays. Every time Catra’s ears were subjected to the unbearable sound, she felt less and less inclined to listen to it. Of course, her attitude only made Weaver blow the whistle again. And again. And again.

After hours of painstakingly ineffective drills, three short bursts from that whistle meant that practice was finally coming to a close. Most of the team hustled to the sidelines, but Catra took her time sauntering across the field. She started to detour to get her water bottle, but a high blonde ponytail caught her eye. She swerved back to the team and picked up her pace to jog next to her best friend, Adora.

“I saw that,” Adora said, elbowing her in the side. “Sneaking a water break?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Catra said innocently.

“You know coach sees everything.”

“Whatever, loser.”

Adora cracked a smile.

Catra wasn’t sure how she’d gotten so lucky as to have a best friend, let alone one as amazing as Adora. She was a top student, a stellar athlete, and popular without even trying. Everyone, quite plainly, adored her. Catra didn’t need to tell her any of this, of course. Between the banter and the familiar little touches, they knew what they meant to each other. They’d known since they were four years old and Adora had defended Catra against a fifth grader who’d kicked over her sand castle at the beach. Ever since that Tuesday afternoon, they’d been inseparable. Goddess help any bully who tried to mess with either of them after that. Most everyone wanted to be on Adora’s good side, and Catra’s wrath was far worse a punishment than anything a principal might dole out.

Unfortunately for Catra, the latest such bully in their lives was none other than their very own field hockey coach, and she was not so easily charmed or intimidated.

“You call yourselves the Horde?” Coach Weaver shouted as the team circled up around her. “You can barely run a 5-3-2 against your own second string.”

Barely listening, Catra wondered when the coach’s last haircut had been. Her dark bangs completely obscured her eyes and most of her face. Their enigmatic coach was somewhat of a legend at Hordak Academy. When she’d attended the school (which, as far as Catra knew, could have been centuries ago), she’d been famous for her ability to stealth behind an opponent’s defense completely undetected. The yearbook remembered her as Lydia “The Shadow” Weaver. Catra hoped she never did anything in her life to earn such a stupid nickname.

Coach Weaver continued with her typical end-of-practice tirade. “We only have so long to prepare for our first meeting with those Bright Moon brats in October. Fortunately, we have a busy schedule this year, so you have plenty of time to fix your sloppy positioning.” She glared directly at Catra.

A shrimpy little freshman raised his hand. Coach Weaver ignored him.

“Once classes begin, our practices will be from 4 to 6 after school and 8 to 10 on Saturdays.”

The freshman stretched up onto his tiptoes and raised his hand an inch higher.

The coach went on. “Now, I know you’re all wondering--”

Adora’s hand shot up, immediately drawing the coach’s attention.

“Yes, Adora?”

“I think Kyle has a question.”

Coach Weaver sighed and glared at the scrawny boy. “What is it?”

Shrinking under the coach’s cold stare, Kyle opened his mouth and closed it several times before mumbling, “I forgot.”

Catra stifled a snicker. Adora poked her in the side, and Catra barely kept herself from yelping involuntarily.

“Cheater,” Catra whispered. “You know I’m ticklish.”

“So? How’s that--it’s _strategic_ ,” Adora countered.

“You play dirty,” Catra replied. “I’ll get my revenge--”

“Catra, something to add?” Coach Weaver’s voice tore into their little bubble, reminding Catra that she and Adora were not, in fact, the only two people on the field.

“Nah,” Catra said as casually as possible. She knew that nothing irked the coach more than a blasé attitude.

Coach Weaver seethed. “If there are no more interruptions...I would like you all to congratulate your new captain: Adora!”

Cheers erupted from the rest of the team. When Catra saw that the new captain was looking at her phone instead of absorbing the team’s praise, she offered her own form of congratulations in the form of a light punch to Adora’s shoulder. Adora looked up just in time to be hit in the face with a white-and-red jersey.

“You can all learn something from Adora’s playing today. Six assists in one skirmish. Team work at its finest.” Coach Weaver declared.

When Adora held it up, Catra could see a bright red “C” patched onto each shoulder. She felt a swell of pride underscored by a less pleasant, greener emotion.

As they walked towards the locker room, Catra snatched the jersey out of Adora’s hands. “Don’t expect me to start calling you captain or anything,” Catra said. “I mean, three of your assists were for goals I scored, so you’re welcome.”

“It’s pretty cool, I guess,” Adora said. She suddenly sounded far away, like she was watching their conversation from somewhere else.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Catra stepped in front of Adora, stopping her. “Why aren’t you grinning like an idiot right now? Pretty sure you just got named youngest field hockey captain in Hordak history.”

A fleeting look of panic flashed in Adora’s eyes. Most people wouldn’t have noticed it. They had certain expectations for Adora’s usually sunny disposition. To Catra, however, it was like an alarm going off.

“It was just a joke,” Catra said apologetically. “As if you’d really need my help. You earned it all on your own.” She handed the jersey back to Adora.

“It’s not--don’t worry about it, Catra,” Adora said, taking the jersey and balling it up. She strode past Catra without another word.

“O...kay?” Catra watched Adora head for the locker rooms. “See you.”

Adora didn’t look back.

***

The next day was the worst first day of school ever, as far as Catra could recall. She and Adora weren’t in any of the same classes, and they didn’t even have the same lunch period. On top of that, Adora must have forgotten to charge her phone. She hadn’t texted Catra all day.

They were in a long-running competition to see who could take the most outlandish selfie in class without getting caught, and it was the only game of theirs where Catra had the undeniable edge. Last year during a terribly boring physics test, she’d suspended three pencils, four pens, and 68 paper clips in her hair. Adora later admitted that she’d faked a coughing fit and ducked out of her English class because she was laughing so hard.

Without Adora to distract her, Catra remembered just how much she hated school. Overeager kids like Kyle raised their hands for every question in a pathetic ploy to score brownie points right off the bat. Some teachers pretended that they cared about more than standardized test scores. Others liked to crack down early and assign extra homework. Catra was sure they got a pay bonus for every student’s spirit they crushed. It was just the way things were at Hordak Academy, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do to change that.

Catra spent the last period of the day trapped in study hall, where she definitively decided that her schedule was cursed. Students could get out of study halls if they made the honor roll, but that list was limited to eight people a quarter. No way Catra was going to be one of them. That meant that for the rest of the year, she would have to sit at school for an unnecessary forty-five minutes at the end every single day. So there she was: feet on the table, homework abandoned, and bored out of her mind.

Across the table, Scorpia was very focused on turning her own geometry assignment into a paper hat.

Catra quickly lost interest in watching Scorpia fold and unfold until each crease was perfect. She stared at her phone, willing it to ping even if it got her in trouble.

“Catra,” Scorpia whispered. It was more of a stage whisper, really, and a loud one at that. The study hall supervisor at the front of the library shushed her immediately.

To Catra’s chagrin, that wasn’t enough to deter her gregarious table mate.

“Catra,” Scorpia repeated, barely quieter.

Catra just glared.

“Aw, someone’s a grumpy kitty.” With a big goofy smile, Scorpia reached out and placed the paper hat on top of Catra’s unruly mane. Scorpia gasped and covered her mouth.

“What?” Catra said, suddenly self-conscious. She plucked the hat from her head.

“You look adorable.”

Catra felt a pang in her chest. The word choice only reminded her that she hadn’t heard from or seen her best friend all day.

Scorpia scooted her chair closer to Catra’s with several short squeaks, earning her another reprimand from the study hall supervisor. Again, Scorpia was unfazed. She sidled up to Catra. “What’s gotcha down?”

“Nothing,” Catra growled.

“You know, people assume I’m a Scorpio because, well, you know, but I’m actually...a Pisces.” She delivered the last two words as if it were a secret that mattered. “We’re outstanding listeners.”

Unable to spend another moment in the stuffy, overbearing library, Catra stood abruptly and slung her backpack over one shoulder. “I need to pee,” she muttered.

The study hall supervisor hissed after her as she left. “No one is dismissed until--”

“Gotta change my tampon,” Catra said without pause.

Anxious to breathe in some air that didn’t taste like moldy old books, she took the shortest possible route out of the building. She checked her phone...still half an hour left in last period. Adora could have been trapped in some horrible biology lecture on proteins--or worse, gym. Structured workouts were just about the most dreadful thing in the world as far as Catra was concerned. The inevitable springtime swimming unit, the worst part of physical education besides the innuendo-addled name of the class. Playing on a sports team was plenty of exercise. Why did they have to double up?

Once, Adora had told Catra that she actually enjoyed endlessly running laps around the field during gym. It helped her think. Catra teased her about it, telling Adora that there were plenty of other physically engaging ways to relax. The joke had, of course, gone right over Adora’s head. Wonderful, oblivious Adora. Where the hell was she?

Catra knew that loitering outside of the library wasn’t going to do her any good, so she unlocked her phone and sent a quick text demanding her best friend’s presence.

 **Catra (2:34 pm)** \- _im ditching meet me by the bike racks_

She pondered for a moment, then sent another message.

 **Catra (2:34 pm)** \- _nerd_

She scrolled back up through her conversation with Adora, and it did nothing to ease her worry.

 **Catra (8:23 am)** \- _oh my god_

 **Catra (8:23 am)** \- _world history sucks so much ass_

 **Catra (8:24 am)** \- _i’m gonna eat my SHOE stop me_

She laughed when she got a picture of herself with her hair tied into a beard.

 **Catra (9:46 am)** \- _let the selfie games being_

 **Catra (9:48 am)** \- _begin* sorry got distracted by my own raw talent_

 **Catra (12:10 pm)** \- _5th period lunch???_

 **Catra (12:46 pm)** \- _i had to sit with kyle at lunch and i have zero classes with u this quarter is officially hexed_

 **Catra (2:16 pm)** \- _im trapped in study hall. are you near a fire alarm_

 **Catra (2:19 pm)** \- _at least bring me a snack pls_

 **Catra (2:20 pm)** - _i’ll pay you back_

 **Catra (2:26 pm)** \- _Adora pls i’m literally DYING_

It wasn’t like she was worried about being annoying. They were long past that. Once, she’d awakened to 26 messages and two voicemails from Adora claiming that cauliflower was actually just “ghost broccoli” and shouldn’t be trusted. A few texts over the course of an entire day wasn’t too much. Was it?

Catra walked across campus to the plain metal bicycle racks in front of the main entrance. She waited for around twenty minutes, passing the time by seeing how many times she could throw and catch her phone without dropping it. Forty-six consecutive throws later, her screen shattered.

“Great,” she said. “Aaand now I’m talking to myself. Even better.”

A few minutes later, students released from class early started filing out of the building. Catra perked up. Finally.

She unlocked her bike and pulled it out of the rack. Unfortunately, it looked like Adora wasn’t going to be so lucky as to beat the rush, so Catra searched for her friend’s bike, too. Catra’s lock combination was Adora’s birthday and vice versa. Oddly enough, Adora’s bike was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had last period off and she’d gone home before field hockey practice. She lived close enough to school that she could feasibly make it home and back. Which meant that Catra could make it there and back before practice, too.

Catra wheeled her bike onto the sidewalk and started pedaling.

Ten minutes later, she dropped her bike in the front lawn and ran up to the porch. Just as she was about to knock, the door swung open from the inside.

Adora.

Without even thinking, Catra pounced. She miscalculated the force behind the hug, however, and knocked Adora onto the floor. Despite the impact, she most certainly did not let go.

“Catra, what--”

“I thought you were dead!” Catra explained.

“Wha--why would you think that?”

Catra sat up. She was still straddling Adora’s thighs, but personal space was entirely extinct between them. “Okay, I thought your _phone_ was dead. I texted you, like, a hundred times.”

“Oh,” Adora said. Catra couldn’t quite place her tone, though she recognized it as the same one she’d used when expressing how utterly unexcited she was about being named captain.

“What is up with you? You’ve been acting all weird.”

Adora sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. “I have to tell you something.”

Catra considered indulging in their usual banter _(Well, duh, we tell each other everything)_ but the gravity in Adora’s voice told her that this wasn’t the right time. The suddenly serious tone only made Catra want to crack a joke even more.

“I know,” Catra started, unable to stop herself. “I look terrible with a beard.”

“Catra,” Adora pleaded.

“What?”

Adora took a deep breath and dropped her arms to her sides.

Where her white-and-red captain’s jersey should have been, Catra saw a fitted, sleeveless crop top.

“Oh my god. You joined cheerleading?”

“No, I...”

Catra looked again. The crop top was blue. Light blue. With a glittering white crescent logo on the chest. “Adora, what the hell?”

Adora refused to meet Catra’s eyes. “I transferred to Bright Moon.”

***


	2. Chapter 2

Adora didn’t think Catra would burst out laughing, but that is very much what she did.

Without freeing Adora’s legs, Catra doubled over cackling. “Good one, Adora,” Catra said, dramatically wiping away a tear. “But really, what is this? A Halloween costume?”

“No, I--”

“I mean, you look hot, but baby blue isn’t really your color.”

Adora froze, unsure how to respond to her best friend calling her ‘hot.’ That was a thing girls did all the time, right? Not weird. Totally not weird. Totally not making it difficult for Adora to focus on this very serious conversation.

Catra grabbed Adora by the shoulders. “I cannot believe you skipped a whole day of school just to prank me! You know I’m gonna have to get you back somehow. Oh, please tell me you got a picture of my face when you said that.”

“Catra,” Adora said firmly. “It’s not a joke.” She removed Catra’s hands from her shoulders and looked up at her.

As the smile dropped from Catra’s face, Adora could see the flight instinct kicking in. The next thing Adora felt was a distinct absence of pressure where Catra had been sitting on her legs a moment earlier. By the time Adora got to her feet, Catra was already at the door.

“Catra, wait,” Adora pleaded. “Don’t leave.”

Catra whirled around and jabbed an accusatory finger at Adora. “I'm not the one who’s leaving! Were you even gonna tell me? ‘Oh, by the way, I’m ditching you and the Horde and the school we’ve gone to since kindergarten!’ Thanks for the heads up, Adora.”

Despite her outburst, Catra didn’t storm out of the door. Her enraged glare made it clear she was the furthest thing from happy, but at least she was still here. Adora could work with this.

“I am so sorry,” Adora said, pouring all of her love for her friend into her words. She stood up and approached one careful step at a time, like a birdwatcher sneaking up on an oriole. “You’re right. I should have told you I talked to Coach Angella, but I didn’t know anything for sure until yesterday.”

“When?”

“Yesterday. I just said.”

Catra let out angry sigh. “When did you meet with Coach Sparkles-for-brains?”

“Last week,” Adora admitted.

Catra crossed her arms. Her hip popped out to the side the way it always did when she was irritated. “Seriously?”

“To be fair, I did try to tell you, but you wouldn’t let me talk over our ‘ironic’ Twilight marathon.”

Catra grumbled something and looked away, most likely hiding the rather deep red flush in her cheeks.

Adora pressed on. “And hey, you didn’t tell me about your first kiss for six whole months. That’s a way bigger secret.”

“Because--ugh!” Catra threw her hands up. “Whatever, Adora.”

“Look,” Adora started, “Coach Angella texted me, like, a second before Weaver announced I was captain. She offered me an amazing scholarship and a chance to get scouted by colleges. She thinks I could get a full ride.”

Catra rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the Isaac Newton of high school field hockey. We get it.”

Adora narrowed her eyes. “Weird comparison, but I’ll take it.”

With an exhale, Catra dropped her arms to her sides. She seemed to shrink into herself a little. It reminded Adora that underneath that wild, rough exterior, Catra was still that same girl from the sandbox all those years ago.

“I can’t believe you’re becoming a Princess,” Catra said.

“Okay, technically, they’re the _Rebels_.”

“What do a bunch of rich assholes have to rebel against? They don’t have enough space for all their fancy cars? Their pants won’t stay up because their wallets are too heavy?”

Adora laughed, glad that Catra was back to making jokes. “Do I look like a rich asshole to you?”

Catra scoffed--borderline snarled--but didn’t answer.

“Just because I go to Bright Moon now doesn’t change who I am.” Adora stepped forward and took her best friend’s hand. “You know me, Catra. Better than anybody.”

The little hint of a smile on Catra’s face told Adora she was talking in the right direction.

“Plus, we live a block away from each other. If you think you’re getting rid of me, you’re the one with sparkles for brains.” Adora grinned. “I mean, fair warning, I’m gonna have to kick your butt on the pitch.”

“You wish.”

“But other than that,” Adora started, “nothing’s going to change between us. I promise.”

Suddenly, Catra’s hand dropped away from Adora’s, leaving only the ghost of touch on her palm. Her smile vanished, her nostrils flared, and something flashed across her mismatched eyes. Anger? ...No. Something else. Something Adora didn’t quite recognize.

“What?” Adora asked.

“I’ll see you around, Adora.” With that, Catra vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.

That night, Adora stared at her ceiling for what felt like hours. There were thousands of thoughts crammed into her head, all shouting over each other like kids clamoring in a classroom before the teacher arrives. Maybe that was it: first day of school jitters. For Real? No. No way. Adora didn’t get nervous. Not about things like that. Sure, she’d gone to the same school her whole life, but she’d be fine at a new one. Right? She’d have a built-in social group...unless her team didn’t like her. No, they had to like her. She was recruited specifically to elevate their team--oh no. What if that alone was enough of a reason for them not to like her?

Only one thing helped Adora calm down when she was overthinking: overplanning. She decided to scribble out a “Not To Do” list, things she would very deliberately avoid doing on her first day.

1\. No shoes with laces (tripping hazard).

2\. Do not forget a sports bra.

3\. DO NOT FORGET A SPORTS BRA!!!!

4\. No nostril straws at lunch. You will not be “Walrus Girl.”

She stared at the fourth item on her list. “Not again...” she whispered to herself.

One week in seventh grade, Catra was stuck under the biggest metaphorical raincloud Adora had ever seen. It was a thunderstorm of tween angst. By Friday, Adora couldn’t take it anymore, so she stuck a straw up each nostril and refused to take them out until Catra laughed. Fortunately, it snapped Catra out of her funk. Unfortunately, everybody else in the cafeteria refused to let it go. Adora laughed along with them at her own expense, determined not to let it get to her, but the situation only snowballed. By Monday, people she’d never even spoken to before were greeting her with walrus barks in the halls. The horrible nickname stuck until the following Wednesday when a sixth grader made the mistake of calling Adora “Walrus Girl” in front of Catra. After he mysteriously sat on half a dozen thumbtacks, the middle school gossip cycle made the wise choice to move onto something new.

Adora caught herself staring off at nothing in particular. She felt an wistful smile coming on--not her typical response to uncomfortable middle school memories. Amidst all the swirling thoughts, her mind kept circling back to a single grounding one.

Catra.

Their conversation earlier had ended so strangely. Unpredictably. Adora had been prepared for Catra to be hurt, to lash out, to get mad. What she hadn’t expected was that uncharacteristically somber exit. Maybe it was a sign that Catra was learning to deal with her emotions in ways that didn’t involve thumbtacks or shredding defenseless decorative pillows (Adora’s mother still hid them whenever Catra came over). Still, Adora couldn’t shake the sense that something was off. Normally when something was troubling her, she would, well, talk to Catra about it. But how was she supposed to ask Catra what was going on with Catra? Of course, Catra would be the one person who would know. But if she really wanted to talk to Adora, she wouldn’t have left so abruptly. Right? And so the swirling thoughts began again...

The Not To Do list was accomplishing very little as far as distractions were concerned, so Adora decided that digital distractions were the answer. She picked up her phone and saw that it was already almost 10 o’clock (time really flies when you’re catastrophizing). She had a message waiting.

 **Coach Angella (6:21 pm)** \- _Can’t wait for you to meet the team tomorrow. They couldn’t be more excited. I truly believe that you’ll love it here--Bright Moon is a wonderfully welcoming place. Regardless, I know that settling in somewhere new can be a challenge, so please let me know if you need anything. My daughter Glimmer is in your year, and she’d be more than happy to show you around tomorrow before classes begin. She just became an offcial tour guide, and she’s very enthusiastic about her new post._

Uninvited tears pricked at Adora’s eyes. She realized, while reading over the novella-length message for the third time, that she was more nervous about the transfer than she originally let herself believe. She typed out a response to the coach.

 **Adora (9:45 pm)** \- _Sounds great! Thanks so much :)_

 **Coach Angella (9:45 pm)** \- _Quite welcome. Be sure to get some rest._

Moments later, another message came in.

 **(Unknown) (9:45 pm)** \- _Hey Adora!!! It’s Glimmer :D :D :D Want to meet by the science building tomorrow at 7:30??_

Adora cringed at the thought of being at school by that hour, but she certainly didn’t want to disappoint the coach’s daughter.

 **Adora (9:46 pm)** \- _Sounds great! Thanks so much :)_

A split second after sending the text, she realized she’d sent the exact same message twice and smacked her forehead.

Adora set her phone aside and forced herself to stop thinking about it. With any luck, her first day would go just fine. All she had to do was meet Glimmer at the science building.

Which she had no idea how to find. Great.

Her eyes snapped open, and ceiling staring round two commenced.

***

Catra was absolutely not sulking. She was very intentionally huddled into a booth at the local twenty-four hour breakfast dive, feet up along the bench, sipping her third chocolate milkshake of the night. Alone. Not sulking. What was wrong with getting a milkshake alone at 10 o’clock on a Monday night? Nothing. Absolutely nothing was wrong. Not with the milkshake, not with Catra, and certainly not with her and Adora.

Barely resisting the urge to reflexively invite Adora to the dive, Catra turned her phone off. She couldn’t talk her out of it. She’d tried. Adora was leaving, and that was that. Catra’s best friend was now a Bright Moon Princess.

 _Rebel_ , Adora’s insistent voice reminded.

Catra grumbled and blew a bubble through her straw. She could stay here all night drinking milkshakes. In fact, nobody was forcing her to even go to school the next day. Maybe she’d drop by Bright Moon just to check on Adora. No, that was ridiculous. Or was it? They’d always had each other’s backs, and what if Adora embarrassed herself on her first day? She had a habit of going more than a little over the top when trying to impress people.

When Hordak’s new fitness center opened last year, Adora nearly broke a rib on her first visit. The new fitness staff accidentally double booked the field hockey and football teams for practice one day, and instead of taking turns, Adora challenged the football captain for the space. She was freakishly strong for a freshman, and she actually managed to beat his weight in deadlifts. Unfortunately, her bench press form was a little wobbly and the bar dropped onto her chest. Luckily, Catra managed to catch enough of the weight to prevent a fracture, but Adora still had some nasty bruises (which she insisted on showing off as battle scars).

If Adora tried anything even half as stupid on her first day at Bright Moon, she could get stuck with a bad reputation that would follow her until grad. Adora was strong enough and smart enough--obviously--to handle whatever high school threw at her, but Catra still felt a strong impulse to check up on her girl.

Wait, what?

Catra abruptly stopped blowing bubbles as she considered where the hell that thought had come from. _Her girl?_ Certainly her brain meant her friend, her best friend, who was also a girl. Her train of thought had just taken a shortcut. It made sense. She was tired from practice and hopped up on sugar, so there was no way she was thinking straight. Some fries would help balance out the sugar, she decided.

As she finished ordering at the cash register, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Catra!”

She turned around to see Scorpia towering over her. Scorpia scooped her up in a bear hug. She finally reintroduced Catra’s feet to the floor a moment later.

“What are you doin’ out so late?” Scorpia asked.

“Milkshake craving,” Catra replied flatly.

The cashier slid a large bowl of fries across the counter. “Order up!”

Scorpia immediately reached for a fry and took a bite. “Ooh, that’s hot. That’s real hot. Hey, you ever try dipping these in the shake? I know, I know, it sounds nuts, but hear me out--”

“Why are you here?” Catra wasn’t in the mood for one of Scorpia’s tangents.

“Oh, I’m meeting up with a pal from the ol’ Bright Moon days. She’s a genius with tech stuff. Added those radio-controlled LED’s to my prosthetics, so now I can color code my arms for games and holidays.” Scorpia stepped aside to reveal a lanky girl with long purple pigtails that absolutely couldn’t be her real hair. “She’s got a part-time job at Best Buy, and I’m giving her ride home, so we’re just making a little detour.”

The girl waved awkwardly. “Hi. I’m Entrapta. But you can call me Emily, if that’s easier.” She pointed to the nametag on her blue polo shirt. “Some people have a really hard time with it. I don’t even tell them my real name when I order coffee anymore, but I keep a collection of all the strangest names they’ve put on my cups.” She counted on her fingers as she listed off names. “Enigma, Impala, Cleopatra, Magna Carta...”

Catra shuddered at the thought of this girl on coffee. She imagined that conversations between Scorpia and Entrapta were like Nascar races for motor mouths.

“Didja want some company?” Scorpia asked, leaning in a little too close.

Catra backed away a little, but she knew that her definitely-not-a-pity-party had come to a premature end. “Sure, I guess.”

With a goofy smile and a thumbs up, Scorpia turned back to Entrapta. They promptly questioned the cashier about how many flavors they could combine in a single milkshake.

When Scorpia and Entrapta slid into the booth across from Catra a few minutes later, they brought the most threatening-looking milkshake Catra had ever seen. More bizarre, perhaps, was the fact that Entrapta seemd to be carrying the milkshake with her hair.

“Prehensile extensions,” Entrapta explained preemptively. “My own invention. Patent pending.”

Catra couldn’t deny that she was rather impressed. “You made those, and you work at Best Buy?”

“For now. For now...” Entrapta said with an ominous cackle.

Looking at the combo milkshake more closely, Catra felt a strong need to throw up. Half of it was a disturbing green-gray color, and there was no way it would pair well with the reddish-brown flavor in the other half.

“Behold,” Entrapta announced, “the pista-cara-nana-mallow-choco-berry wonder!”

“Ugh! Why did you order that?” Catra asked, recoiling.

Scorpia jumped in. “Well, pistachio, caramel, banana, marshmallow, chocolate, and strawberry are all delicious alone.”

“So they must be fantastic together!” Entrapta tacked on.

Catra was only half-listening to their explanation of the Franken-milkshake. She kept glancing at her phone, catching herself, and wondering if her fries were cool enough to eat yet.

“Hey, Catra,” Scorpia said, sipping her monstrous milkshake unflinchingly. “Oh, that is so good,” she muttered to herself before returning to the conversation. “A little bird told me Adora’s transferring to Bright Moon. Entrapta’s the little bird. She manages their team.”

Of course Scorpia would bring up the one topic Catra so desperately wanted to avoid. “Yeah,” she said brusquely.

Entrapta cut in. “Sometimes I forget you went there.”

“Me too,” Scorpia said.

“Why’d you leave?” Catra asked. “Did the Horde poach you from the Princess squad?”

“Not exactly,” Scorpia started. “I didn’t really fit in at Bright Moon.”

Entrapta slurped a loud sip of the unholy milkshake through a second straw. “Wasn’t your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandma one of the founders?”

“Well, sure,” Scorpia said. She thought for a moment. “No, wait, you missed a great. But being a legacy doesn’t make you a Princess.”

Catra took a bite of a french fry. “You are a little goth-chic for the glitter brigade.”

“Thank you so much,” Scorpia said as genuinely as anyone had ever said anything. “That is exactly the look I’m going for. Entrapta, didn’t I tell you that Catra’s the best?”

“Sure did,” Entrapta said between sips.

Catra absently stirred her milkshake with a particularly long french fry.

“So the french fry thing works best if you actually eat it,” Scorpia explained obliviously. “My bad. I don’t think I said that before.”

“Huh?”

“Kitty, what’s wrong?” Scorpia asked.

“Nothing,” Catra insisted.

Scorpia pointed to herself. "Again. Pisces. Great listeners." 

Catra just narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“My emotional intelligence is super high,” Scorpia stated as if it were an explanation.

Entrapta jumped in. “It’s true. She could sense that my pet chinchilla was pregnant.”

“How is Martha? Are the kids good?”

Entraptra nodded emphatically. “In my last time trial, Edmund climbed their terrarium’s tree in 4.3 seconds.”

“That is amazing. Oh, they grow up so fast.”

Catra could barely contain her vehement eye roll. “Anyway, Scorpia, I’m fine.”

“Mmm, nope. Something’s buggin’ ya,” Scorpia pushed.

Catra scoffed. “Whatever.”

Entrapta and Scorpia took turns guessing.

“Disappointing milkshake?”

“Under-fried fries?”

“Over-fried fries?

“Adora?”

“No,” Catra said far too quickly.

“Seems like maybe it’s Adora,” Scorpia whispered to Entrapta.

Catra could feel angry heat rising in her cheeks and knew that she’d given herself away. “She can do what she wants. I don’t care.”

“What do you mean you don’t care?!” Scorpia exclaimed, drawing the attention of the few other patrons in the dive and a stern look from the cashier. She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “What do you mean you don’t care?”

“I don’t know,” Catra said, drowning a fry in a milkshake whirlpool with her straw. “She promised nothing was going to change, but--well, that’s obviously a lie.”

“Hmm.”

Catra looked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do you want to believe her?” Entrapta asked, riveted.

“Why do you care?” Catra snapped. Why was this weird girl staring at her like she was some kind of zoo animal?

“Follow up,” Scorpia addded. “Do you maybe, actually, sort of want something to change?”

“What? No. Of course not,” Catra spat.

“You sure?”

“Scorpia.”

“Are you really sure?”

Catra stopped playing with her straw and nearly knocked her milkshake over lunging across the table. “Why would I want to lose my best friend?” She hissed.

“Whoa, no! That’s not what I meant at all,” Scorpia said.

“Emotional intelligence my ass,” Catra murmured.

Scorpia and Entrapta exchanged a look.

“What the hell was that?” Catra looked between them, the vicious crease between her eyebrows threatening to become a permanent fixture on her face. She turned to Entrapta. “And why are you even in this conversation?”

“I’m invested,” Entrapta said.

“Kitty, I’ve only known you guys for a few months,” Scorpia began.

“And I’ve only known you a few minutes,” Entrapta added.

Scorpia continued, “But I know a pair of heart-eyes when I see ‘em.”

Catra could only stare.

Then she burst out in a riotous cackle. “You think--you think I’m in love--with Adora?”

“I feel like everybody is, a little bit,” Scorpia mused. “Like between 15 and 20 percent.”

Even though she still had half an order of fries left, Catra slid out of the booth. “Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow, Scorpia.”

“Are you taking your fries?” Entrapta asked.

“Knock yourself out.” The meanest part of Catra sincerely hoped she would.

Entrapta’s long hair darted forward and grabbed the fry basket.

As Catra left the dive, she lingered by the door, out of sight from the booth she’d just been in. She could only overhear snippets of what Scorpia was saying, because apparently she had discovered her inside voice at the absolute least convenient time for Catra. The strange pair had apparently already blown through several topics, and they were now discussing their favorite shapes and varieties of rocks.

With the half-hour walk home and a ten-minute tree climb up to her window, Catra snuck into her room just before midnight. After snagging her hair on several branches, she found herself wishing, for the first and only time in her life, that she was a chinchilla. At least chinchillas didn’t have to deal with school and nasty coaches and best friends leaving.

It was later than she realized, and by now she’d almost definitely missed her chance to reach out to Adora. Was it too late to just text her goodnight? Probably. Not that Catra wanted to.

As she dragged a brush through her hair, Catra frowned at the prospect of being awake in less than seven hours. Worse, she had to set an alarm. She never used to worry about sleeping in late because she could always rely on a wake up call in the form of a good morning text from Adora. It was a much better way to start her morning than an evil alarm clock, and she liked that the first thing she’d see every day was Adora’s picture. For a long time, her contact photo had been her best submission to the selfie games. She’d covertly taken it while going up to the whiteboard to write in an answer and their Algebra II teacher was in the background looking like a second head sprouting from Adora’s shoulder. 

A few weeks ago, Catra had changed the photo. Now, it was the perfect preservation of Adora’s ridiculously excited reaction to learning it was corndog day for lunch on the last day of their freshman year. Corndogs were Adora’s uncontested favorite food, and so Catra delivered the information very deliberately, camera at the ready, and snapped the photo before Adora could stop her. She’d hoped for a gloriously embarrassing candid, but of course Adora managed to look good even while roaring joyously about corndogs. The picture captured all of the best things about her: that beaming smile, the untamable, wispy flyaways, those sparkling gray eyes...

Oh.

Oh no.

Maybe Scorpia wasn’t entirely wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao catra's gay as F U C K somebody help her
> 
> (also if u see any typos lemme know and i'll fix 'em real quick! thank u!! i'm posting this after revising 70 pages of a feature film script and i super don't have the brainpower to look at more commas right now)


	3. Chapter 3

Seven minutes before her alarm went off, Adora’s eyes snapped open. She’d dreamt that she was back at Hordak, but none of the other students were there. She ran endlessly through the halls, terrified to be late to field hockey practice. Coach Weaver’s voice boomed and echoed and bounced off the walls in such unnatural ways that Adora couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. No matter where she ran, she always seemed to get further away from the sound. All the hallways lead to the wrong places. Everything was upside down or inside out. Lockers on the ceiling, carpet on the lunchroom tables. Where were her teammates? Where was Catra? The dread was too much to handle--she would never find the exit. She faced the cold brick wall, took a deep breath, and sprinted towards it head-on. Her vision went black.

And she finally woke up.

6:13.

Adora felt like she’d received an electric shock. She was wide awake, and her legs were all jittery from the running dream. She felt like she needed to sprint around the block a dozen times just to calm down, but then she remembered she didn’t have time. She had to get to Bright Moon.

She practically vaulted out of bed.

As she brushed her teeth, Adora thought about her dream. She usually couldn’t remember her dreams after a few minutes, but this one lingered. Despite the warped space and emptiness, it felt real. Pure fear wasn’t something Adora felt often, but Coach Weaver was one of the few entities that could inspire it. She made anyone who was late run ladders for the entire practice, a punishment that Catra had endured more than once. Adora, despite being a couple of minutes behind Catra on some occasions, always seemed able to slip onto the field without being caught.

Once, the two of them were a whopping eighteen minutes late to practice. It was presentation day in their last period history class, and of course it ran over. They brought a note from the teacher, but Coach Weaver was convinced they’d somehow forged it to get out of warmup cardio. Adora was willing to run as many ladders as it took for the coach to stop yelling at them, but Catra didn’t back down. She insisted that it wasn’t their fault and threatened to drag their history teacher outside so he could prove it. With a sickeningly blank smile, Coach Weaver offered Catra two options. One, she could run extra ladders after practice. Two, she could leave the field and never return. Ever. Adora protested, but Coach Weaver wouldn’t be swayed. Adora waited for Catra in the locker room. Without even discussing it, they went straight to an ice cream shop and Adora bought them sundaes.

Adora spat her toothpaste in the sink. On her way out of the house, she grabbed a cereal bar in the hopes that her appetite would return sometime in the coming hours.

From the moment she arrived on campus, Adora knew that pictures didn’t do Bright Moon justice. The towering buildings more than hinted at the school’s prestigious past, but the iridescent inlays in the pale brick seemed stolen from the 23rd century. Given the massive scale of the campus, Adora was relieved that she had a tour guide. Somewhere. If only she could find her.

“Adora!” A voice called from the front of the nearest building.

A short, tan girl with pastel pink and purple hair waved enthusiastically. A much taller boy stood next to her.

“Glimmer?” Adora asked, approaching cautiously.

The girl saluted her and puffed out her chest. “Tour Leader Glimmer at your service.”

Adora turned to the boy whose face seemed stuck in a grin. “Uh, are you also a tour guide?”

“Tour Leader,” Glimmer interjected.

The boy scratched his chin absently. “Oh, no. I’m Bow.”

Glimmer nodded. “We should get started. We’re already two minutes behind schedule.”

She pivoted and led them into the school. Bow fell into step next to Adora.

“Is she always like this?” Adora whispered to him.

“Nah,” Bow said, refusing to match her quiet volume. “She just takes being a guide really seriously.”

Glimmer cleared her throat. She stopped in front of an empty classroom and glared at Bow. “This kind of idle chatter is why civilians aren’t allowed on tours.”

Bow fake-saluted her. “My apologies, your highness. Please continue.” He dropped the salute and laughed.

Adora could see Glimmer trying to hide a smile. She recognized the expression--it was the same face Adora made herself whenever Catra hid all of the whiteboard markers before a class.

Glimmer was an outstanding tour guide, but Adora’s brain simply wasn’t prepared to store hundreds of details about the history of Bright Moon and all of its successful graduates. She tried her best to remember the important things: bathrooms, the lunchroom, snack bars. Hordak had plenty of vending machines scattered around campus, but it had nothing on Bright Moon. Focused on the incredible array of snack option available at the swipe of a student ID, Adora missed Glimmer’s entire monologue about the moonstone mogul who founded the school.

“Darn it,” Glimmer said, checking her elegant silver watch. “First period starts soon. I was really hoping to show you the fields, but I guess you’ll see them at practice anyway.”

Bow’s eyes sparkled with admiration as he looked at Adora. “I can’t believe we poached Hordak’s star goalie! The Rebels are gonna kick some serious butt this season.”

Adora noticed Glimmer freeze up at the mention of Hordak Academy, but she didn’t think anything of it. She had other things to worry about--like running all the way back across campus to her English classroom.

The day went by in a blur. Fortunately, Adora had World History with Glimmer and two classes with Bow. After Bow nearly blew up their lab station in chemistry, he felt so bad about ruining her first day that he offered to buy her a giant bag of gummy bears on the way to field hockey practice. Glimmer caught up with them halfway down the walk to the locker rooms.

“Bow, you so did not ruin my day,” Adora said, popping a green bear. “My last lab partner hit me in the face during a pendulum demonstration.”

“Ouch,” Bow said. He glanced at the half-empty bag of gummy bears. “Man, you are showing no mercy on those poor little guys.”

Adora snickered and searched for a red one.

Glimmer poked Adora’s arm. “Just so you know, my mom’s no Weaver when it comes to ladders, but we still run a lot.”

Adora paused. “What? How do you guys know Hordak’s cardio routine?”

“It’s kind of infamous,” Bow shrugged. “Anyway, you might want to save the candy for after practice.”

Adora looked at him for a moment. She responded by shoving an entire handful of gummy bears into my mouth. Glimmer’s shocked expression next to Bow’s impressed one was absolutely priceless.

Glimmer shook her head. “Adora, how was your first day? Did you say you guys are lab partners?” Glimmer asked casually.

“Heck yeah we are!” Bow high-fived Adora.

“That’s...awesome,” Glimmer said.

“Heck yeah it is!” Adora added, high-fiving Bow again.

In the locker room, Adora was relieved to find that she’d packed a sports bra and the right pair of cleats. Overall, her first day at Bright Moon had gone as well as she could have hoped. Better, even. Between Bow and Glimmer, she felt like she already belonged.

Adora’s first day went from good to great when she finally walked out onto the field hockey pitch. It was perfect. No divots where sticks had scooped up the dirt. No slippery patches where cleats had twisted the grass out at the roots. Flawless.

The warmup was easy by Hordak standards. A few laps, dynamic stretches, and some light core work were barely enough to make Adora break a sweat, but that wasn’t the only difference in Bright Moon’s circuit. No one was running alone. On the last lap, a pair of older girls fell back to jog next to a runty freshman. Adora easily kept pace with Bow and Glimmer, and they chatted the entire time. So much socializing--was this normal? Is this how teams were supposed to work?

By the sidelines, the ever-regal Coach Angella waited with her pastel purple clipboard. Adora watched the team circle up, a sight so familiar and yet so uncanny that it made her stomach clench. Apparently Bright Moon’s rules about hair dye were much more relaxed than Hordak’s strict uniform code. About half of the team sported vibrant hair colors, including Coach Angella herself. There was one student who dyed both his hair and his mustache a deep maroon, though Adora couldn’t get a close enough look to confirm it wasn’t a trick of the light. At Hordak, Scorpia barely got away with bleaching her hair white, and that was only because she made the argument that it was technically a “natural” color. No way a Hordak student could get away with blue or purple. A maroon mustache? Forget about it.

Adora realized that she was lingering behind the rest of the team and sprinted up to the circle.

“Hello, everyone,” Coach Angella began. Her voice was quiet and gentle, and Adora wondered how the team even heard her during games. She gave a brief speech welcoming new players and asked everyone to introduce themselves. Adora hoped there wouldn’t be some sort of test on this--she could barely remember who Glimmer and Bow were by the time they’d gone around the whole circle. This team was certainly larger than the Hordak squad, but as Coach Angella reiterated several times, Bright Moon didn’t believe in cutting or tryouts. Anyone could join any team regardless of gender or skill level, and so the field hockey team had almost thirty players.

Coach Angella clapped her hands. “I’m sure you’ve all had a long first day, so let’s start with something fun: basic shooting drills. Adora, would you start in goal?”

Adora nodded awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Of course.” She was used to being told where to go on the field, not asked.

As she jogged to the goal, the rest of the team spilt into two groups and formed two queues on the 25-yard line. Adora recognized the two girls leading the groups as the same ones who’d fallen behind to jog with the straggling freshman, and she couldn’t help but smile. They were probably the captains, she figured, and instead of lording their power over the team, they made a point of being kind and inclusive (unlike a certain former Hordak captain by the name of Octavia). Wait, what were the Bright Moon captains’ names again? Cinderella and Natasha? No, that wasn’t it. Adora made a mental note to ask Coach Angella for some sort of team directory after practice, fully intending to make flashcards.

The captain with dark skin and white hair lined up to shoot first, plucking a neon orange ball from the bucket and placing it in the grass. A shrill whistle blow from the sidelines kicked off the drill, and the ball hurtled towards Adora. Bottom left corner. Easy stop. Adora deflected it with a gentle _CLACK_.

“Nice stop, Adora,” the captain said, flashing a thumbs up as she jogged to the back of the line. The next player stepped up, the guy with the maroon mustache and cocky smile.

Bottom right. _CLACK_. Left-center. _CLACK_. Bounce, bounce, _CLACK_.

***

 _KRAAK_ \--Catra’s stick smashed into the ball and splintered. The entire stick head flew towards the goal in place of the ball, and Lonnie barely managed to duck in time.

“Agh!” Catra yelled, less shocked by the impact than outright furious. She already held the record for most broken sticks on the team. It was an expensive record to maintain, and it wasn’t one she was particularly proud of. A sharp whistle from Coach Weaver summoned her to the sidelines.

Catra tossed the rest of her broken stick down next to the benches where the few freshmen on the team sat.

“Dispose of that, Kyle,” Coach Weaver said, pointing to the stick.

“But I’m not the manager,” Kyle protested.

Coach Weaver’s glare was enough to convince even the burliest players to do her bidding, and shrimpy little Kyle was certainly no exception. He bolted from the bench and retrieved the pieces of the broken stick from the field.

“And you.” Coach Weaver turned to Catra. “You’re playing with half a stick and half a brain today.”

Catra crossed her arms. “Whatever.”

“There is no room on this team for--”

“We barely _have_ a team!” Catra interjected. “Half of the starters didn’t even bother showing up.”

Coach Weaver drifted closer to Catra. “And why do you believe that is?”

“Gosh, I wonder.” Catra said sarcastically. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t risk blaming Shadow Weaver’s horrible coaching style to her face. Unfortunately, the look on Coach Weaver’s face told Catra that she didn’t need to say it out loud for the sentiment to be heard.

Three short whistle blows brought the rest of the team to join Catra at the benches. Coach Weaver raked her gaze over the ten remaining players.

“It would appear,” she started, “that the departure of a certain short-lived captain has depleted morale.”

Could that be true? Did so many people decide to quit just because Adora transferred? Then again, wasn’t Adora’s encouragement exactly the reason Catra joined the team in the first place? Maybe Coach Weaver’s claim wasn’t so far-fetched. A few players nodded in agreement, including Scorpia and Lonnie.

Catra poked a finger at Lonnie across the circle. “Shut up, Lonnie. You hated Adora.”

“I mean, yeah,” Lonnie admitted. “Only ‘cause she was super nice all the time and a way better goalie than me.”

“Obviously,” Catra agreed.

More of their teammates nodded at that.

“Hey,” Lonnie warned. “I’m all you got now.”

“Perhaps,” Coach Weaver said with a glint in her eye. Catra had come to fear that look--it meant the coach had an idea, and her ideas usually included sprints. “Clear your schedules this Friday evening.”

Any other team would have groaned collectively, but the Horde was more than accustomed to regimented, extended practices.

“We’re doing a lockdown,” Coach Weaver said.

The team stared at her blankly.

FInally, Scorpia put her hand up. “Is that a new kinda drill?”

“No. A social lockdown,” Coach Weaver explained.

Scorpia lowered her hand. She thought for a moment, then raised her hand again.

Coach Weaver sighed. “What, Scorpia?”

“Me again, hi. Quick question--what do you mean when you say ‘social,’ exactly?”

“Yeah,” Lonnie narrowed her eyes. “We aren’t even allowed to talk during laps.”

Coach Weaver put her hands behind her back and paced at the front of the group. “Team bonding, of course. Invite your classmates. Make sure all of our absent starters show up. And, as an added incentive,” she stopped pacing and looked out over the team, “whoever recruits the most new players will be the next team captain.”

“So like...a party?” Lonnie asked.

“Yes,” Coach Weaver. “A party.”

Gasps ran through the circle. The Horde? Socializing? If that weren’t revolutionary enough, anyone could become team captain.

Even Catra.

As the team’s mumbles grew into excited whispers, she considered it for the first time. Imagining herself in that uniform--well, it was strange. The only person she’d ever thought of as a potential captain was no longer in the running. Not at Hordak, at least. What if Adora became captain at Bright Moon? What if Catra got the chance to face off against her? And what if Catra won? That would show Adora. Maybe then she would realize what a mistake it was to leave Hordak behind. To leave _her_ behind.

When Coach Weaver blew the final whisle and dismissed everyone, Catra hung back to gather the broken pieces of her stick. No way she was buying a new one. Duct tape was invented for a reason.

She saw Scorpia shepherding everyone towards the locker room. When Kyle nearly dropped the water bottle carrier, Scorpia helped him out by plucking the two ball buckets from his slouching shoulders. She ruffled his hair and started chattering about someone in her English class who would be perfect for the team.

Catra, on the other hand, was still pondering her potential captain showdown with her best friend.

Best friend. Did Adora even deserve that title anymore?

The last few days had been a whirlwind. Catra had avoided thinking about classes, homework, practice--everything. But no matter how she tried to distract herself, she was somehow always reminded of the thing she wanted to think about least of all. How was she supposed to talk to Adora about her problems with Adora when Adora wasn’t even there to talk to? It was infuriating. Adora was infuriating--and she hadn’t even bothered reaching out. Maybe she was giving Catra space. Or maybe, maybe...

Catra felt her chest constrict. She couldn’t let herself finish that thought.

She pulled out her phone and starting texting everyone she could about the lockdown.

***

Adora was glad that she could still walk home from Bright Moon. It gave her time to unwind from her day, plan her homework, think about what she wanted for dinner. As she plodded along, though, she quickly realized that having quiet time to ponder only brought her thoughts back to her former walking companion.

How did everything remind her of Catra?

She sighed and started typing out a message.

 **Adora (5:14 pm)** \- _Hey, it’s me. Can_

Her thumbs stopped. Obviously Catra knew who it was. Backspace...

 **Adora (5:14 pm)** - _Yo_

Wow. Definitely not.

 **Adora (5:15 pm)** \- _Can we talk?_

Adora sent the message. Her phone buzzed in her hand not a second later.

 **Catra (5:15 pm)** \- _i dont know, can we?_

Sarcasm. Catra’s favorite defense mechanism.

 **Adora (5:15 pm)** \- _Ha ha. Very funny._

 **Adora (5:15 pm)** \- _Seriously, can we talk?_

 **Catra (5:15 pm)** \- _we’re talking right now, arent we?_

Adora sighed. Catra wasn’t going to make this easy. When did she ever make things easy?

 **Adora (5:16 pm)** \- _In person? Friday after school?_

 **Catra (5:16 pm)** \- _i_ _cant i have plans_

That got Adora’s attention. Plans? Catra never made plans, especially not social ones. Usually they just showed up at each other’s houses on the weekends. Deciding things in advance felt...strange. Distant. What could Catra possibly be doing?

Adora did her best to play it cool.

 **Adora (5:16 pm)** \- _Oh, cool. What plans?_

The responses stopped.

For hours.

Adora must have checked her phone a hundred times during dinner. Her minimal first-day homework took less than an hour, leaving her with no distractions that took up all her brain power. She showered and was halfway through her third episode of The Great British Bake Off when-- _PING PING!_

She smacked her funny bone on her nightstand lunging for her phone.

 **Catra (10:01 pm)** \- _sorry i was watching cutthroat kitchen_

 **Catra (10:01 pm)** \- _theres a field hockey parry_

 **Catra (10:01 pm)** \- _party_

Adora’s heart sank. A field hockey party. Without her. Sure, Bright Moon probably had their own team parties, but Adora was missing what was probably the first and only Horde party in living memory. Again, she vowed to stay as cool as possible. Catra was guaranteed to make fun of her if Adora revealed how much she wanted to go to this thing.

 **Adora (10:03 pm)** \- _Sounds fun :D_

No. The smiley face was too much. She deleted it and sent the message, punctuationless. Totally chill.

 **Catra (10:03 pm)** \- _i mean its a lockdown at school_

 **Catra (10:03 pm)** \- _so no_

 **Adora (10:04 pm)** - _Yikes D:_

Perfect frowny face usage. Adora mentally patted herself on the back. For a moment, she forgot about the baker forced to throw his baked Alaska in the trash can. It was all background noise when she was talking to Catra. Wait, she’d texted her for a reason--ah. That’s right.

 **Adora (10:05 pm)** \- _Are you free Saturday?_

 **Catra (10:05 pm)** \- _did you already forget about weekend practice_

 **Catra (10:05 pm)** \- _...of course you did_

Uncalled for, Adora thought. But also, a little bit called for. Honestly, she had forgotten. The Rebels didn’t practice on weekends.

The little bubbles appeared on Adora’s phone indicating that Catra was typing something. She waited, unsure how to respond. The bubbles vanished--then popped up back. After a painstakingly drawn out second, they disappeared.

Catra had a right to be angry; Adora knew that. But she didn’t have to cloister her feelings behind a layer of sarcasm flimsier than a pastry crust. Alright, maybe baking shows weren’t going to help fix this. There was only one thing she could do.

Adora had to get into that lockdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi thanks for reading i love you all!! i spent all day reading scripts and writing coverage and my brain is mush :))) but i love updating this fic! a lot! 
> 
> stay tuned for the lockdown where absolutely nothing gay will happen. obviously.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny Adora and Catra's first sleepover. 
> 
> Present-day Adora has trouble adjusting to Bright Moon. 
> 
> And for once, Adora's the one who drags Catra into a terrible plan at the Hordak lockdown. 
> 
> (Welcome to my favorite chapter so far.)

Adora and Catra had their first sleepover when they were eight years old.

At the time, they lived right next door to each other, so it was the principle of spending the night at a friend’s house that excited them more than anything else. Adora made a list of activities and bought four different kinds of ice cream just in case Catra’s favorite flavor changed overnight. The list included all of the most important sleepover activities Adora could think of: watching movies, playing games (both board and video), pretending to go to sleep and then secretly staying up, midnight snacks. Catra added a few items of her own, but most of them involved sneaking out of the house. Adora argued that leaving the house defeated the point of a sleepover, but she reconsidered trekking down to the convenience store when she ate the last of the chocolate.

Adora was tired, but the sugar rush kept her awake to see midnight for the first time. Content to cross off the final item on her list, she went upstairs and passed out.

Around an hour later, Adora’s door creaked open and woke her up. She saw Catra peek inside, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“Adora?” Catra whispered.

“Catra?” Adora sat up.

With a timid step forward, Catra entered the room.

“Are you okay?” Adora asked.

“Something’s making a really loud noise downstairs.”

“Oh. That’s probably just the washing machine.”

Catra lingered in the doorway. She yanked the blanket around herself tighter as if she was trying to become a human burrito.

“Do you wanna sleep up here?” Adora asked.

Instead of answering, Catra simply dropped her blanket, scampered across the room, and dove onto the bed.

Adora pulled the covers up over both of them and tried to fall back asleep. Something kept her awake, though--a nagging question.

“Were you...scared of the washing machine?” Adora asked.

 _“No,”_ Catra insisted. 

Adora stifled a laugh. Catra buried her face in the comforter, but Adora wasn’t letting her off that easily. She pulled the sheets back to see Catra’s adorably embarrassed and very grumpy grimace.

“Stop it,” Catra hissed.

“It’s okay,” Adora said. “My dad hates it, too. It kind of sounds like...an airplane with a cold.”

Catra’s angry glare softened.

Adora thought to herself for a moment, tapping her chin for effect. “Or maybe a really crappy bus. But, like, underwater.”

“That’s just a submarine, dumbface,” Catra mumbled.

Adora giggled. “At least I’m not scared of the washing machine.”

“Shut up! I am not!” Catra flopped around furiously until she was facing away from Adora. “Jerk.”

Adora poked her in the side sharply. Catra yelped.

“Shh, you'll wake up my parents,” Adora teased.

Catra growled quietly.

Adora closed her eyes again, particularly unconcerned with how tired she would be in the morning after all their shenanigans. A little smile tugged at her mouth.

Suddenly, Catra turned over and hugged Adora tightly. She clung for barely a second, then returned to her previous position as abruptly as she’d left it.

“G’night, Catra,” Adora whispered, finally drifting off to sleep a few minutes later.

***

Bright Moon’s administrators had decided, according to Glimmer, that a rotating class schedule would keep the students more alert and interested in their coursework. Bow suggested that having classes at different times each day was actually a favor to the teachers so that the same classes didn’t always fall right before and after lunch. Nobody paid attention when they were too hungry or too full of food.

For Adora, nothing justified moving classes around this often. It was hard enough to navigate the giant school without a schedule that looked like an unsolved Rubik’s cube. On her second day of school, she spent all of World History worrying that Glimmer was home sick. The teacher, Ms. Hope, privately informed her after class that she was in the wrong section. Adora late for four more classes on Thursday. Between the tardiness and the unexcused absence, she was only one disciplinary point away from earning a detention. Coach Angella offered to talk the dean of students into a little leniency, but Adora refused. She was determined to make a good impression on her own, not grovel or demand special treatment. She decided to compartmentalize: no thinking about the lockdown or Catra until the school week was over. Focus. 

On Friday, Adora sprinted between each of her classrooms like she was trying out for varsity track. She skipped lunch and spent the whole period waiting in her World History classroom, checking her schedule every few minutes just to make sure she was in the right place. Mrs. Hope walked in and saw Adora staring right at her, hands folded calmly on the table.

“You’re early.” Ms. Hope said. “Do you have a question for me?”

“Nope,” Adora said with a smile. “No questions. I’m great.”

Ms. Hope floated across the classroom, her heeled shoes clicking softly under her long skirt. As she approached, Adora realized just how tall the woman was. She must have been over six feet--no wonder she could reach the projector so easily.

“Adora,” Ms. Hope said, staring down at her with that severe, expressionless face. “Is everything alright?”

Adora’s stomach answered for her by growling loudly. She clamped her hand over her abdomen as if that would quiet the grumbling.

Ms. Hope sank down until she was at eye-level. “Are you certain?”

Maybe skipping lunch wasn’t such a great idea--Adora suddenly felt like she might cry if she said anything. Instead, she put on a big smile, squeezed her eyes shut, and nodded.

When more students started filing in, Ms. Hope didn’t push any further. Adora exhaled in relief. She thanked herself for hoarding granola bars in her backpack and made it through the rest of the day without her stomach trying to answer any more questions.

Four minutes before her last class ended, she caved. She started planning what she wanted to say to Catra and considering where the lockdown would be. How many people would be there? Should she tell Catra beforehand? No. Then she might not show up. Adora was trying to talk to her, not scare her off. If Catra was stuck at school, well...she’d have to at least listen to what Adora had to say.

While Adora piled textbooks into her backpack, Bow slid up next to her locker. Glimmer appeared behind him.

“Adora! What are you doing tonight?” He asked.

No way she could tell them the truth. “Uh...”

“I’ll give you a hint,” he said, putting his arm around Glimmer’s shoulders. “You’re hanging out with us.”

“Wh--really?” Adora said incredulously.

“Of course,” Glimmer said matter-of-factly. “When we don’t have practice, we usually cook dinner at Bow’s.”

“And you want me to come, too?” Adora asked.

Bow looked as confused as Adora felt. “Why are you surprised?”

“I’m not. I mean, I am. A little. I’ve only known you guys a couple of days.”

“Oh.” Bow sounded disappointed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“No, no. That’s not...It’s really sweet of you to invite me, and I would totally come over, but I already have plans tonight.”

Glimmer sighed. “Next time, then. What are you doing?”

“Just seeing a friend.”

“A Hordak friend?” Glimmer asked.

Adora hesitated. “Yeah. A Hordak friend.”

“Cool,” Bow said. “Have fun!”

“Thanks.” Adora slung her backpack over her shoulder and closed her locker. As soon as it shut, she realized she’d forgotten her chemistry homework. “Wait. Shoot.” She started entering her combination again.

Glimmer put her hand on Adora’s shoulder. “Is everything okay, Adora?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me that?” She muttered, shoving the significant figures worksheet into a folder.

“My mom said you had kind of a rough first week. If you want to talk about anything, I--”

 _“We,"_ Bow cut in, "are totally here for you."

“Yes,” Glimmer agreed.

Adora smiled at the odd pair in front of her. Was there something in the tater tots at Bright Moon that made everyone so darn nice? “Thanks. It's just a lot to get used to." 

“It’s a bunch of new things and new people all at once,” Glimmer said. Her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, no. Was my tour too much? It was too much, wasn’t it?”

Again, Adora hesitated. The answer was yes, but she didn’t want to hurt any feelings.

“Your tour was great, Glimmer.” Bow said, putting his hand on her back. She exhaled in relief.

Adora closed her locker again, confident that she had everything she needed. “I’ll see you guys.”

“See you!” Bow waved her off.

Now Adora could start her real planning. No more distractions. Some way or another, she’d fix things with Catra.

***

Eight minutes into the lockdown, Catra questioned why she’d ever been attracted to team sports.

Recruitment quickly turned into a popularity contest. Catra had a difficult time getting her friends to commit to attending the lockdown, so she had no idea how many of them were actually coming. As it turned out, six of her people showed up. If they all stayed on the team, Catra’s chances of becoming Captain were good. Almost everyone else barely managed to get one or two friends to tag along.

To Catra’s surprise, her only real competition was Scorpia, who had apparently sought out and recruited nine of the most annoying fourteen-year-olds she could find. Scorpia might have been new to Hordak, but that didn’t stop her from being friendly towards literally everyone she met. It was _so_ annoying. Most of Scorpia’s recruits were probably swayed to join simply because a senior was talking to them, Catra thought. But Coach Weaver wouldn’t build a squad out of freshmen. No way. Most of them would be sent home with a cruel laugh.

On top of bringing in the most prospective players, Scorpia also brought snacks and homemade brownies-- _from scratch_. Could she be trying any harder?

Catra reluctantly enjoyed one of Scorpia’s brownies and sulked at the well-stocked food table in the corner of the big gym. The large windows let her see that it was almost sunset, which was the cutoff for potential recruits to arrive. Coach Weaver would lock the doors. Metaphorically speaking. She wouldn’t actually lock dozens of teenagers in a gymnasium, right? Hm. At least they had plenty of food and sleeping bags. Would Coach Weaver stay at school with them overnight? It was hard to believe she would give up an entire evening to hang around high school students. Then again, she probably cared more about rebuilding the team than having an actual life. 

Scorpia walked up next to Catra and pointed at the brownies. “How are they?”

Catra swallowed her bite. “They’re brownies,” she stated, the sweetness in the treat cancelling out her bitter instincts to create a completely neutral reply.

“Phew. Honestly, I wasn’t sure they would be,” Scorpia said. “I was accidentally looking a recipe for no-bake blondies, so I just threw some cocoa in and crossed my fingers.” She did exactly that. “Glad they turned out.”

“You’re a real iron chef, Scorpia.” Catra sighed. Their conversation was enough to remind her that Scorpia likely had no intention of scheming when she thought to bring baked goods to the party.

“Thanks, Catra. You’re the best. Oooh, they’ve got kettle corn,” Scorpia said excitedly. She filled two paper bowls, no doubt considerately bringing snacks back for friends. Ugh. “We’re about to start a game of Twister if you’re interested in some classic team bonding.”

Catra scoffed. “No offense, but if I wanted to get crushed under a bunch of sweaty idiots, I’d go to a school dance.” And she never went to school dances.

Scorpia balanced a couple of brownies on top of her kettle corn. “You can spin the little thingy and tell people what to do.”

Now that wasn’t the worst idea in the world. What else was she going to do all night? Catra reached out and took a bowl from Scorpia. “Lemme help you with those.” She grabbed an extra bowl of popcorn and followed Scorpia to the other side of the gym.

People had already split off into small groups. One larger cluster stood by the front door, and Scorpia beelined for them. Catra saw a familiar purple-haired girl chatting animatedly with a couple of freshmen.

“Why is Entrapta here?” Catra asked Scorpia.

“Oh, yeah. I invited her. Don’t worry, she’s not a spy or anything. Coach Weaver made her sign an NDA.”

“...Like, actually?”

Right then, Entrapta saw them and her face lit up. “You brought snacks! And Catra!” She rushed over to them and immediately claimed two brownies for herself. “Welcome to the greatest social experiment ever invented: Twister.”

Twister, Catra decided, was actually the stupidest human creation of all time. Someone decided that it was good idea to throw a bunch of repressed, awkward, horny teenagers into a small space and call it a game. It couldn’t possibly be fun, being stuck in a sweaty, nervous heap. Catra had never actually played, of course.

Eventually she stopped actually spinning for colors and came up with her own directions by looking at the group of people and giving them the most difficult moves she could imagine. When people started falling on each other, she started to see the value in the game.

“Kyle, move your left foot to blue,” she called out. Her phone buzzed. A message from...Adora. Nope. Catra was not going to let her ruin Twister right when it was getting good.

“That’s on the other side of the mat!” He protested.

Catra shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.” _BZZ BZZZ_. Another message. She ignored it, but she could practically hear Adora’s voice reprimanding her. _Catra, come on. Don’t you think that’s kinda mean?_

“The dial has spoken,” Entrapta proclaimed. She was currently doing a handstand, her feet up on Scorpia’s back.

“Aww,” Kyle groaned. As he stretched for a blue dot, he accidentally kicked one of Scorpia’s recruits in the face. Everyone laughed, but Catra was too distracted by the incessant vibrating in her pocket.

Scorpia started to wobble, knocking Entrapta off balance.

“WhoaAaaAa,” Entrapta emitted a strange sound as she stumbled forward off the mat. She managed to catch herself with her magic hair, but the rest of the precarious pile collapsed.

Catra didn’t even see it. She was busy looking at the notification on her phone: _fifteen_ new texts. What if something terrible had happened? She wouldn’t know until she read them.

Scorpia stood up slowly, wiping away tears from laughing so hard. “Alright, who’s spinning next round?”

“Me!” Kyle shouted quickly.

He reached out for the dial. Catra snatched it away instinctually.

“Hey, I thought Coach Weaver said no phones,” Kyle added.

Catra slid her phone into her pocket and handed the spinner over to him. His face lit up and he immediately forgot about the phone. She casually stepped away from the group.

“You’re not gonna play with us?” Scorpia asked. “There’s plenty of room on this tiny, tiny mat.”

“Ugh, gross,” Catra replied. “You idiots have fun. I think I hear the Goldfish crackers begging for my attention.”

Back at the snack table, Catra pulled out her phone again and read Adora's messages.

 **Adora (6:59 pm)** \- _Okay, so, funny story._

 **Adora (7:01 pm)** \- _I might be stuck up on the roof of the Hordak locker rooms. Can you come unlock a window? Pleeeeeease???_

 **Adora (7:01 pm)** \- _T_ _hought they wouldn’t lock the third floor windows but hoo boy was I wrong_

 **Adora (7:03 pm)** \- _I brought food :))_

 **Adora (7:04 pm)** \- _Catraaaaaaa_

The rest were just Adora being annoying and yelling Catra’s name in all caps.

Catra sighed. She couldn’t very well leave her best friend stranded on a roof.

She looked around the gym and didn’t see Coach Weaver anywhere. Scorpia was buried under a bunch of freshmen. No one seemed to be paying attention. If she left now, she could help Adora before people started flocking to the locker rooms to get ready for bed.

Her phone was still buzzing every other second. Determined to make as little noise as possible, Catra snuck out the back of the gym. The heavy door tried to slam shut behind her, but she stopped it just in time. She was not getting in trouble for this. As she eased the metal door closed-- _BZZ BZZZ. BZZ BZZZ._ Catra furiously yanked her phone out of her pocket.

 **Catra (7:08 pm)** \- _SHUT UP OH MY GOD IM COMING_

 **Adora (7:08 pm)** \- _:D :D :D :D_

 **Adora (7:08 pm)** \- _< 3 <3 <3_

She let herself stare at the emoticons for an extra second. Suddenly, an electric whirring started below the stairs. She jumped about a foot in the air before considering that it was probably just a generator.

Catra padded up two flights of metal stairs, hoping that her reply would adequately shut down the annoying butterflies she was feeling over the little digital hearts.

 **Catra (7:08 pm)** \- _ugh youre so annoying_

 **Catra (7:08 pm)** \- _you know what i changed my mine_

 **Catra (7:08 pm)** \- _mind* shit_

 **Adora (7:09 pm)** \- _Hah_

 **Catra (7:09 pm)** \- _yeah definitely leaving u outside now_

 **Catra (7:09 pm)** _- _howd you even know we were in the gym__

 **Adora (7:09 pm)** _-_ _Magic_

 ** Catra (7:10 pm) ** \- _so scorpia told you_

 ** Adora (7:10 pm)  ** \- _¯\\_( ツ)_/¯ _

Even without the unnatural buzzing and clicking from the generator, the Hordak locker room at night was spooky. There was just enough moonlight coming in to remind Catra that most of the space was draped in shadow. The green metal lockers seemed taller, towering. Catra shook it off, knowing that Adora would tease her for being spooked by inanimate objects. Just like when they were younger.

She climbed up onto the bench and leapt up on top of the lockers. Adora definitely needed to appreciate the athletic effort Catra was putting into rescuing her.

Catra turned the lock on the window-- _CLICK_. She stuck her head outside and whispered, “Adora?”

A second later, Adora’s upside-down face appeared right in front of Catra. “Catra!”

Startled, Catra yelped and slipped off of her perch. She managed to land on her feet but lost her balance and tumbled backwards...not nearly as graceful as her earlier climb up the lockers.

Catra looked up at the window. Adora swung inside, legs first, and landed like a goddamn superhero. Of course. She was wearing a black sweatshirt and leggings, like a micro-budget Batman. With a completely unearned smug smile on her face, she offered a hand to Catra. Instead of accepting the help, Catra leapt up and tackled Adora onto the floor in one swift motion.

“Why are you here?” Catra demanded.

“Uh...” Adora didn’t even bother pushing Catra off. She was caught off guard--good. Better to be on an even playing field, Catra thought.

“What were you thinking? If Coach Weaver catches you here--”

“Yeah, I know. She’ll throw me out the same window I came in. But I wanted to see you.”

“Seriously, Adora?” Catra sat back on Adora’s legs. She wasn’t allowed to go anywhere until Catra got an explanation out of her. On the other hand, this was a rather distracting position to have a conversation in...

Adora sat up. “Of course. You’re my best friend. And we need to talk. I know you know this week has been weird.”

How did she smell so not gross after scaling a building? Yet another way in which Adora was annoyingly perfect. Catra stood and paced around the locker room in an attempt to clear her head.

Adora got up and followed her. "Man, it's creepy in here." 

“You know how weird this is, right? I thought you never wanted to come back here, and now you’re breaking in?” Catra pointed out.

Adora crossed her arms. “I didn’t break in. You _let_ me in. Which, thank you, by the way.”

Catra scoffed, unable to think of any sort of scathing comeback. “Yeah, whatever. I guess you lied about the food, huh?”

“I had to make sure you'd come get me.” Adora looked away.

“You really think I’d leave you stuck on a roof?”

Adora shrugged.

Eyes wide, Catra stared at her. Adora didn’t really think that, did she? She couldn’t. How dare she? In a second, Catra went from the edge of remorse to simmering anger.

Catra headed for the stairs. “I’m sure you remember how to get out.”

Adora grabbed her by the hand. “Catra, wait.”

The strong hand around hers wouldn’t let her go. It begged her to stay--

Catra tore out of Adora’s grasp and kept walking.

“Etheria.”

Catra stopped. She put on her most intimidating scowl and turned around slowly. “What?”

Adora took a deep breath and stood stick-straight, like a soldier at attention. “I hereby invoke the code of Etheria. I request an audience with the queen.”

“Are you fucking serious, Adora? A game--a stupid game--from when we were, like, four?”

“Seven. And hey, you didn’t run off and rat me out to Weaver yet, so my plan didn’t not work.”

Catra hesitated. She poked a finger at Adora’s chest. “Only because I can’t believe how ridiculous you’re being right now.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You won’t even talk to me!”

Catra just glared at her.

Adora went on. “I know you’re angry, and you totally have a right to be, but you’ve barely said three words to me since I left Hordak. I thought we were best friends, Catra. How does me going to a different school suddenly change that? I just--” Adora started tearing up. “I don’t understand.”

Oh, no, no, no. This was bad. Catra felt her face grow hot, and the lump in her throat wouldn’t let her respond right away. Catra didn’t cry. Ever. But if there was one thing that could make her...

“Catra,” Adora took Catra’s hand again. “Please just talk to me.”

Her response was so quiet that Catra wasn’t sure if she’d said it or simply thought it.

Adora leaned in closer. “Please?”

“Okay,” Catra repeated, her voice hoarse.

Adora exhaled in relief. She squeezed Catra’s hand, prompting Catra to once again pull away, this time to dry her own eyes.

They sat down on the bench, and neither spoke for a long moment.

They finally started at the same time.

“I know--”

“So I--”

A tense pause.

“You go first,” Adora said.

Catra leaned back on her hands. “You want the queen of Etheria to talk to you so bad, shut up.”

Adora snorted at that. “Fine by me, your highness.” She shifted and crossed her legs atop the bench. Tapping into a habit older than their fantasy kingdom game, Catra mirrored her posture. They faced each other.

Catra picked at her fingers and thought for a long time, unsure where to start. She knew she was angry. She knew why, mostly. Adora had left her behind, hadn't even talked to her about her decision. But that wasn't all. Scorpia’s words scratched at the back of her mind. _I know a pair of heart eyes when I see ‘em._ Since Adora’s departure from Hordak, Catra’s feelings problem had only gotten worse. Something had changed between them. Catra couldn’t be around Adora anymore without getting distracted by the way she smelled, without losing her train of thought every time Adora smiled, without feeling like a lovestruck idiot. It was completely gross, and it was all Catra wanted to feel.

She couldn’t tell Adora any of that. It would ruin everything.

Then again, wasn’t this whole thing already a huge mess? What else did she have to lose?

Catra looked up at the girl in front of her, patient as possible despite being desperate for answers. At this point, Catra wasn’t sure she could make things worse. Maybe she should tell Adora what Scorpia said. Not like she’d be admitting anything, really. Just relaying someone else’s opinion.

Just as Catra took a deep breath, the front door to the locker room creaked open.

Instinctively, Catra pushed Adora off of the bench.

“Stay,” Catra hissed.

“Catra, don’t--”

“Shh.” She shoved Adora under the bench and jumped in the way, hoping to hide her from sight.

Catra heard the intruders before she saw them.

“...and I remotely activated the parachute right when the egg was about to hit the ground.”

“Why didn’t you just start with the parachute?”

“Because it was more dramatic this way!” Entrapta came around the corner with a suspiciously large overnight bag. Scorpia followed closely. “You should’ve seen my second grade--Catra!”

Catra leaned against a locker, trying to block out as much space as possible without acting too strange. “Hey, Entrapta. Scorpia. Did Twister crash and burn already?”

“We’re gettin’ our jammies on,” Scorpia explained. She unfurled the cloth in her hand, revealing a fuzzy Cookie Monster onesie. “I got it at Target.”

“Adorable.” Catra tried not to flinch at her own word choice.

Scorpia folded the onesie back up. “Aww, thanks. See, Entrapta? I keep telling ya. Catra’s the best.”

“Mhmm,” Entrapta nodded and wandered off towards the bathroom stalls. Catra tried to move subtly enough to block the view, but she stepped on something that felt suspiciously like a human hand.

A metallic _CLANG_ rang out from under the bench. Entrapta bent over...and saw Adora.

“Oh, hi! Nice pajamas,” Entrapta said, pointing to Adora’s hoodie. “Very chic.”

Adora carefully crawled out from under the bench, shaking out her injured hand.

“Adora? But if you're at the lockdown, and you’re not on the team, and you’re way too nice to spy on us, then why are you...” Scorpia looked between her and Catra several times. A grin stretched across her face. “Were you guys...you know, were you?”

Catra felt the blood rise in her cheeks. _“No,_ Scorpia. Jesus.”

“What?” Adora asked, oblivious as ever. “We were just talking.” Adora turned to Catra and looped their arms together. “Turns out sometimes you have to corner your best friend in a dark locker room just to see her.”

Scorpia smiled smugly. “Is that what they’re callin’ it these days?”

“Scorpia, shut it,” Catra warned.

“Uh huh. You’re kinda undermining your own scary with the tomato face.”

Entrapta's crazed expression certainly wasn’t helping. “This is the best social experiment I’ve ever been to!”

“Mmkay, I feel like I’m missing something,” Adora muttered.

Catra extricated her arm from Adora’s. She approached Entrapta, hoping to use to their height difference to her advantage. “Listen, weird Einstein. You signed an NDA, right? Which means you can’t talk about anything you see or hear at this stupid party.”

“Uh huh,” Entrapta said, unfazed by Catra’s attempt to intimidate her. “My parents' lawyer said it was the most ironclad legal document he’d ever seen. He wants to use it as a template.”

“Whatever,” Catra continued. “That means you can’t tell Coach Weaver you saw Adora.”

Adora leaned in close to them. “Actually, I don’t think it works like that--”

Catra shoved her away by the face. She stared daggers at Entrapta. “Keep your mouth shut. Got it?”

“Got it. Can I put my pajamas on now?” Entrapta asked, still frustratingly immune to Catra’s fear tactics.

“Knock yourself out,” Catra said.

Scorpia patted her back pockets. “Ah, shoot. You know what? I forgot my toothbrush. Be right back.”

Entrapta called out from the bathroom stall, “Bring back my automatic flosser!”

“Sure thing.” Scorpia flashed a thumbs up and pulled the locker room door open.

Adora and Catra watched the door close. As soon as it shut, Adora grabbed Catra’s shoulder and spun her around.

“Hey--” Catra wasn’t expecting the sheer force of the collision, and she steadied herself with a hand on Adora’s waist.

Suddenly, their faces were dangerously close. Catra was sure their noses brushed against each other. It tickled a little. She definitely wasn’t thinking about closing the conspicuous gap between them. All she heard was her own halted breath, all she saw was Adora. The question that had been in those deep gray eyes vanished, forgotten, replaced by something else that Catra didn’t understand, and it scared her. She’d always been able to read Adora easily, but this...this moment was impossible to comprehend. It could have been a second, a minute, an hour--but neither of them would look away. The silence dared them both to break, and its challenge went entirely unnoticed.

Finally, the sound of metal against metal shattered the tension and Entrapta unlocked her stall. Catra flinched out of Adora’s grip and pulled her hand away. They still held each other’s gazes, and Catra swore that she saw a hint of pink in Adora’s cheeks.

Entrapta emerged from her stall clad in bright yellow footie pajamas, clearly the result of a shopping trip with Scorpia. “You guys should come downstairs. We’re starting karaoke soon and Scorpia’s breaking out the Abba. You have to hear her version of ‘Dancing Queen.’ She tries to sing all the harmonies at once and it's amazing.”

Adora and Catra barely exchanged a glance before the locker room door opened again. Scorpia returned with an electric flosser in hand--and Coach Weaver right behind her.

Entrapta ran up to Scorpia and grabbed her gadget, then she returned to the sinks.

Coach Weaver stepped around Scorpia. “Hello, Adora.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, hopefully the longer chapter makes up for it :) i wanted to take my time with this one. 
> 
> thanks for reading and commenting <3 i'm excited to see what y'all think!


	5. Chapter 5

In her brief time at Bright Moon, Adora had learned that schools were not in fact supposed to resemble prisons. Most of Hordak’s buildings were solid concrete, and rumor had it that the windows used to have bars over them. Thank goodness that had changed--otherwise Adora’s break-in plan wouldn’t have worked at all.

Coach Weaver’s office looked like it had been built two centuries before the rest of the school. Walking through its arched doorway always made Adora feel like she was entering a Gothic abattoir, and the claw-like protrusions from the molding only added to the overwhelming sense of impending doom. Plus, it was freaking _cold_. Adora hugged herself desperately and regretted wearing only a light sweatshirt.

One wall of the office was almost entirely covered by a flat-screen television. This was the first time Adora had ever seen it on, but she couldn’t tell what the picture was showing. A static, black-and-white image. Angles. A doorway?

Coach Weaver pushed Adora down into a chair by the shoulder. The now-towering woman circled around her desk, taking her time to reach her seat. She pulled the chair an inch closer to the desk. Folded her hands atop the cool, dark-wood surface. Tapped her index fingers together. Once, twice, three times--

Adora couldn’t take it anymore. “Coach Weaver, I’m so--”

“I’m so glad you decided to join us tonight, Adora. Elated, even.” If that were true, the coach’s stony face certainly didn’t give it away.

“You...you are?” Adora asked, beyond confused.

Coach Weaver smiled, baring her teeth. “Of course. I hope to make the lockdown a new team-building tradition, and the Horde will always have a place for you. It’s where you come from. Where you belong.”

Adora wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Coach Weaver was right, at least partially--this was where she came from. That point couldn’t exactly be argued. Adora latched onto the first question that crossed her mind. “Hang on. Why are you even here? I mean, being trapped in a high school gym doesn’t really sound like the best Friday night. Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

The coach’s expression darkened significantly. “Yet another of Hordak’s ridiculous rules. One must have a chaperone at all on-campus events.”

That made enough sense to be true. 

“Regardless,” Coach Weaver started again. “You made quite the effort to break into Hordak tonight. Surely you had a good reason.”

Adora flinched at the word choice. She had, technically, broken in, but it sounded so much worse when an authority figure said it. Adora could get expelled--no, wait. She didn’t go to this school anymore. She could get _arrested_. Maybe? Probably not. Why hadn’t she thought this through better?

The rising panic must have shown on her face. Coach Weaver leaned across the desk and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Adora’s ear, like a lion grooming her cub. “Such a shame Bright Moon snatched you away.”

An uncomfortable chuckle rose in Adora’s throat. “It’s...not what I expected.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Well, the school is _huge_ , for one thing. I’ve gotten lost like twelve times...”

The coach hummed thoughtfully. “And your classmates? Teachers?”

“Oh, you know,” Adora laughed awkwardly, “they’re...nice.”

“Nice,” Coach Weaver repeated, clearly not buying it. 

“Honestly, it’s been a little tough.” Adora shifted in her seat. She wasn’t sure why she was telling Coach Weaver all of this, but it wasn’t like anyone else had asked how she was doing with the transition. Glimmer, Bow, and Coach Angella were keeping an eye on her, sure, but she barely knew them. She didn’t want to weigh down her new friendships and relationships with this kind of stuff. By the end of the week, Adora felt like a boiling kettle. Fate seemed determined to keep her from talking to the person she really wanted to confide in, and now Coach Weaver was offering an open ear.

Adora recounted all of the frustrating things about moving to Bright Moon. She talked about how hard it was to find places, the confusing class schedule, and the homework load, which had steadily increased throughout the week. Bright Moon teachers seemed to view weekends as open opportunities to assign extra readings and worksheets.

“I’m sure they’re receptive to questions,” Coach Weaver asserted. “Aren’t they?”

“Ehhhh,” Adora replied, thinking back to her conversations with Ms. Hope. “Sorta. Depends.”

Coach Weaver clicked her tongue. “If you’re suffering in your student life, well...it sounds as though your new faculty isn’t offering adequate support.”

“It’s not like I’ve asked for help.” Adora hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, “I don’t want to be treated differently.”

“They only recruited you to carry their team to victory. To them, you are an athletic investment above all else. Other than a bit of money, what are you getting in return?”

Adora’s head started to spin. She’d transferred to Bright Moon primarily because of the scholarship and the opportunity to be scouted by college teams, but were those really good enough reasons? Being watched by scouts didn’t even guarantee anything. She’d left so much behind at Hordak: her friends, her _family_...

Coach Weaver continued. “Don't you see? What they’re offering has an expiration date. They’re using you for your talents.”

 _No_ , Adora thought, _that’s not right_. Coach Angella would never. Glimmer would never. Bow was probably incapable of manipulating anybody, ever. Their smiles and kind words floated up into Adora’s consciousness. The unconditional inclusion, the feeling that she didn’t have to hide any part of herself to belong to something bigger--it wasn’t something she’d never felt at Hordak Academy. What kind of family was that?

“Adora, you may be a student at Bright Moon, but your heart will always be here.”

Her heart. Now that was something Adora couldn’t argue with. She’d broken in for a reason, yes, but that reason hadn’t made itself entirely clear until a few minutes ago in the locker room. She’d barely had time to process, and it hit her all at once.

In a flash, she went back to that moment. Catra’s hand gripping her waist, her heart leaping out of her chest, her lungs forgetting to do their job. The faintly sweet-and-saltiness on Catra’s breath. Freckles like constellations on her cheeks. The smug smirk falling away, her lips just slightly parted. So close, Adora could--

Coach Weaver’s voice cut through the warmth of the memory. “It must be terribly frustrating.”

Adora snapped out of it and returned to the sharp, cold office. She felt blood rise in her face before she remembered that Coach Weaver probably couldn’t read minds. “What?”

“I worry you’re not getting the support you need. Why don’t we continue these little talks? Once a week, perhaps? You can tell me all about your classes, teachers, teammates.” She paused. “Practices.”

Adora narrowed her eyes. That was...oddly specific.

“I chose you to be captain for a reason. You can still be a part of this team, at least in spirit.”

She slowly realized what Coach Weaver was getting at. “Wait, you want me to--”

Just then, something moved on Coach Weaver’s giant TV. A person, walking across the screen. Suddenly Adora realized what she was seeing. She hoped it was her ticket to cutting this meeting short.

“Someone’s leaving the gym,” Adora said, pointing at the TV.

Coach Weaver whirled around to see the screen. She sighed--growled, really--and rose from her seat. Before the she left the office, she turned around. “Think it over, Adora.” With that, she vanished into the dark hallway.

Adora didn’t move. Her entire body felt heavy all of a sudden, like she was in one of those awful nightmares where her legs stopped working and she couldn’t run fast enough to get away from whatever terrible thing was chasing her. Was Coach Weaver really asking her to betray the Bright Moon team? They’d been nothing but kind to her, but she’d only known them for a few days. The Horde had been her family for so many years. What was she supposed to do? Why did she have to choose?

After a minute or so, the chilly office air started to seep under her skin. She finally got up, turning off the light as she exited the room.

***

Catra paced around the gym. Everyone else was getting ready for bed or sitting in little circles. No doubt they were gossiping. Knowing Scorpia and her big mouth, the whole team had already heard about Adora crashing the lockdown.

Where was Adora, anyway?

She and Coach Weaver had been upstairs for almost fifteen minutes. What could they possibly be talking about? Was Adora actually in trouble for once? The pettiest part of Catra reveled in the possibility that Adora was being reprimanded, but the burning resentment quickly drowned in a wave of worry. Now that Adora was one of the Rebels, it was actually in Coach Weaver’s best interests to punish her for the break-in. Catra didn’t put it past the Hordak coach to take drastic action.

Another minute of pacing went by before Coach Weaver returned to the gym. She dragged Kyle in by his collar, hissed a few words at him, and snatched a candy bar out of his hand. With an unnecessarily dramatic whirl, she left.

Kyle sniveled as he sorted through his overnight bag. How he’d survived being part of the Horde this long was a mystery.

Wait--maybe he’d seen something on his little excursion.

Catra grabbed one of the last two brownies from the snack table and sauntered across the gym. She peeked out the door to make sure Coach Weaver was completely gone, then knelt down next to Kyle.

“Sneaking out isn't worth it. Weaver’s always watching,” she said, breaking the brownie in half. She offered a piece to Kyle. “Plus, we’ve got plenty of snacks here thanks to Scorpia’s weird baking obsession.”

He smiled a little and took the brownie. “Yeah. Coach Weaver's a little scary.”

“Only a little? Don’t let her hear you say that.” Catra stuffed her brownie half in her mouth.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“What?”

He nibbled at the brownie. “I’m pretty sure the only reason you’ve ever talked to me is to insult me.”

Catra scoffed. Alright, maybe she took advantage of the fact that Kyle was an easy target for teasing. “I’m not insulting you now.”

Kyle shrugged. He smoothed his sleeping bag out.

As casually as possible, Catra let her question slip out. “Did you happen to run into anybody while you were raiding the vending machine?”

He shook his head. “Just Coach Weaver. She kind of appeared out of nowhere. I don’t even know how she found me. How come?”

“Nothing. Whatever.” Classic Kyle: not helpful at all. She headed back to her sleeping bag, but Kyle called out to her.

“Hey!” He said far too loudly.

Someone shushed him, and Catra turned around to face him, refusing to hide her irritation.

“Does this mean we’re friends now?” Kyle asked in a stage whisper.

Catra narrowed her eyes at him and turned away slowly instead of responding.

She set up her own sleeping area in the corner. Most of the team was clustered in the middle of the gym, but Catra wanted to get as far from the inevitable snoring as possible. Scorpia probably held full conversations in her sleep. Once she’d brushed her teeth (and casually poked around the locker room to see if Adora was there), she finally curled up on top of her sleeping bag. Considering the sleeping bag was made to brave freezing temperatures, it was too warm to actually zip up inside it.

She scanned the room. People were starting to fall asleep. Lonnie was already snoring. Scorpia watched in awe as Entrapta’s hair braided itself. Nothing unusual. No sign of Adora. She considered texting her, but drafting a message proved to be inordinately stressful.

 **Catra (11:45 pm)** \- _u alive?_

Obviously Adora was still alive. Stupid question. Delete that.

 **Catra (11:46 pm)** \- _did coach weaver rip your face off or something_

What? Why ask about her face? In all likelihood, her completely perfect face was still very much attached to her body. Nope, don’t think about that either...

Finally, Catra settled on the most innocuous thing she could think of.

 **Catra (11:49 pm)** \- _this school is so creepy at night_

Simple. Accurate. Best of all, it had nothing to do with Adora’s face or how close it had been to Catra’s face in the locker room earlier. 

She couldn’t let herself fixate on that moment between them. Every time her thoughts went back to it, she felt like a soda can being violently shaken. Desperate to keep her mind off of it, she killed thirty minutes or so playing games on her phone before the battery died. Shit--she wouldn’t know if Adora texted her back now.

With nothing else to distract her, Catra had no choice but to stare at the very high ceiling and wonder: where the hell was Adora? Seriously, was she okay? She might have gone home, but Coach Weaver had made it very clear that the lockdown would be quite literal.

Even with a bit of moonlight streaming in through the windows, the dark soon started playing tricks on her. The shifting shadows began to look like little impish creatures, mischievous gremlins watching her from above and snickering silently. Catra knew she was imagining it, but she could feel her skin crawl. Hordak Academy was probably haunted. In fact, she’d be shocked if it wasn’t.

Once she started hearing strange sounds, she felt a powerful urge to smash a window and flee the campus. The soft _TAP, TAP, TAP_ was probably just the generator under the stairs. Or a heater, maybe. God, it was getting hot in the gym. How were some of these people in sleeping bags?

Eventually, the source of the sound became clear. Footsteps.

Catra tore across the gym. She almost barreled Adora over at the entrance but managed to stop herself before they collided.

Adora gasped in surprise. “Catra?”

“You’re alive,” Catra responded.

Adora’s confused expression was...irritatingly cute.

“I thought Shadow Weaver might have ripped your face off or something.”

“Just went for a walk. I needed to clear my head,” Adora explained. “I think Coach Weaver just asked me to spy on Bright Moon.” She normally stood so straight and proud, but at that moment she seemed to fold into herself.

Catra shook her head. She wasn’t sure she’d heard that right. “Wait, what?”

“She said something about how the Horde is my family and she thinks I’m still captain in spirit. I dunno. She got all rambly and confusing. Also, this whole place is freezing.”

Catra took half a step forward. “Are you serious, Adora? You break into a school, ruin your rival team’s party, and the most bloodthirsty coach in the conference gives you a pat on the back for it?”

Adora fidgeted a little. She glanced up at Catra. “I ruined your night?”

Catra rolled her eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“That’s what you said,” Adora challenged.

“Whatever,” Catra scoffed. “So are you gonna do it?”

“Spy on Bright Moon? I...” she trailed off, clearly torn. Her eyes met Catra’s as if she hoped to find an answer there.

After a few seconds, Catra had to look somewhere else. If she stared for too long, well...it was dangerous.

Adora cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Man, Coach Weaver was not kidding about this being a lockdown. I tried three different exits.”

Fury flared in Catra’s chest. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “So you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye again?”

“Catra...” Adora sounded like Catra had just kicked her in the stomach. “Can we please just talk--”

“It’s late.” Catra started walking to her sleeping bag.

Adora followed her closely, whispering and dodging sleeping people. “So? You’re usually up until 3 anyway.”

Catra hated that Adora was right. She hated how well she knew her, how she could defuse any of her arguments with a single, innocent comment. And the worst part? Adora didn’t even realize it. Everything she knew about Catra was second-nature, something she didn’t even have to think about or put effort into.

Taken for granted.

Catra’s foot landed on something that was definitely not the hard gym floor.

“Ow! Watch it!”

She looked down to see Lonnie, glaring.

“Sorry,” Adora replied quietly, despite not being the one who'd stepped on her.

Lonnie grumbled something, rolled over in her sleeping bag, and immediately resumed snoring.

When Catra made it to the other side of the cluster of people, Adora was still right on her heels.

“Why are you still here?” Catra hissed.

Adora crossed her arms. “I came to this lockdown because we have to talk. I’m not leaving until we do.”

“Ugh!” Catra exclaimed.

Three separate voices shushed her insistently.

Catra raised an eyebrow at Adora. If she pressed the whole talking thing any further, she might wake up the entire team.

“Let’s go back to the locker room,” Adora whispered as quietly as she could.

“No way. Coach Weaver will see us leave. She has cameras everywhere.”

“You knew about those?”

“Duh. It’s not exactly a secret.” Though it was definitely strange for a coach to have their own closed-circuit surveillance network.

“Fine,” Adora said, throwing her hands up. “You’re off the hook tonight. But first thing in the morning we are going to breakfast and having a mature conversation over M&M pancakes.”

Catra thought for a moment. She wasn’t going to say no to pancakes. “I guess you do owe me food.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They stood there, arms crossed, each more stubborn than the other.

When Adora visibly shivered, Catra realized something. “You didn’t bring a sleeping bag.”

“Ah, no. Didn’t really plan that far ahead,” Adora said sheepishly.

Catra looked down at her own bedding arrangement. “Whatever. I’m not using mine, anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s like, eighty degrees in here.”

Adora didn’t ask any more questions before zipping herself up like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

***

The first time Adora woke up, she was warm. Inside the sleeping bag, she felt like a human Pop-tart. Her feet were especially toasty--and stuck under something.

She sat up. In the pale moonlight, she saw Catra curled up at the end of the sleeping bag. She looked so peaceful. No trace of her usual edge or attitude. Adora wiggled her toes, causing Catra’s soft expression to harden into mild irritation. She adjusted herself on top of Adora’s feet and returned to her tranquil state. A crooked little smile took shape on Adora’s face as she lay back down and closed her eyes.

The second time Adora woke up, Catra was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all!!! i hate shadow weaver so much!!! also, i realize that it is teeeeeechnically saturday, so apologies for the slightly late update.
> 
> ***I'm officially setting a new update deadline: Saturdays at noon central standard time. This way I'll be able to catch up, hopefully write longer chapters, and read them over in the mornings instead of rushing to post.***
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's keeping up with this fic! Hope you're having as much fun reading as I am writing this :D


	6. Chapter 6

Only a few stragglers remained in the gym, and Adora didn’t recognize most of them. They must have been new to the team. A few former players were conspicuously absent from the lockdown, but Adora didn’t think too hard about it. She was distracted trying to figure out how Catra’s sleeping bag was supposed to fit in the tiny little travel pack it came with. Obviously Catra wasn’t going to come back and get it herself, so Adora decided she would hold onto it.

While Adora packed up, she thought about the pros and cons of crashing the lockdown. On the positive side, venting to Coach Weaver had been unexpectedly cathartic despite the strange ending to their conversation. On the other hand, Adora wasn’t quite sure what had happened with the whole “be a spy for Hordak” thing. But hey, snacks! Big plus there. Most importantly, Adora had accomplished her primary objective and said what she’d needed to say to Catra. Well, mostly. In the process of trying to start a conversation, she'd discovered some things that she couldn’t talk about yet. Things related to feelings. Squishy feelings. She didn’t like pushing her problems onto future Adora, but she was fairly sure that Catra would have run off even earlier if Adora had blurted something out in the locker room. 

How did Adora feel, exactly? When did all of this start? Ever since she could remember, she and Catra had been close. They’d always confided in each other, spent time together, been affectionate. That wasn’t new. Or strange. That’s just how best friends were, right? So how had Catra suddenly acquired the ability to knock the wind out of Adora with nothing more than a look? Why could Adora still feel Catra’s hand on her waist?

Ugh. This stupid sleeping bag was _broken_. How was anyone supposed to fit a human-sized thing into a fanny pack-sized bag? Every time she tried to cram the roll into the tiny little travel pack, it refused to cooperate.

Adora gave up and lay down again. Had the sleeping bag felt this scratchy last night? Did anybody actually use the weird little adjustable hoods when they slept? As she looked up at the ceiling again, the last few lockdown guests trickled out, leaving her alone in the giant gym. Catra was right about one thing: this place was creepy, but as far as Adora was concerned the spookiness wasn’t restricted to night time. Even during the day, the rafters blocked out the light enough that shadows entirely obscured the high ceiling from view. It was as if the gym had originally been about twenty feet shorter and the remodeling team had simply left the old supports in place when they built it up higher.

Had she always felt this uncomfortable at Hordak and just never noticed it? Or had her short time at Bright Moon changed her that fast? Was Catra right about everything? Was it all broken? Was this all a huge mistake? Adora stared up at the ceiling, panic rising in her chest as the questions spiraled and multiplied. She needed to get out of this gym.

Adora rolled up the sleeping bag and managed to tie the hoodie strings around the middle to hold it together. It looked like it might explode any second, but that was most definitely a problem for future Adora.

Catra might have ditched breakfast, but that wasn’t going to stop Adora from eating her feelings away. She walked to the diner, shoved the sleeping bag into the corner of the booth, and ordered two waffles and a chocolate milkshake. Food usually made things better. Especially sugary food. As she ripped off a piece of fluffy waffle to dip it in whipped cream and syrup, a pang of sadness hit her square in the chest. Where had she first gotten the idea to eat waffles like that? Of course. Who else? Catra had touched everything, even these mindless little habits. Adora felt like she finally understood those depressing breakup songs about finding people’s lost socks at the end of the bed. 

It couldn’t hurt to text her, right?

 **Adora (10:39 am)** \- _Hey, are you coming to the diner?_

Her thumbs flew across the keyboard and sent the message before her brain could catch up and stop them. 

**Adora (10:40 am)** \- _I have your sleeping bag_

She glanced at her phone between bites. Soon, her waffles were gone and her glass was almost empty. Still no messages. But it was fine--Adora could wait. She absently slurped at the dregs of her milkshake and stared off at the wall.

A waiter came up to the table with his notepad out. He made no attempt to hide his irritation with her noisiness. Monotonously, he asked, “Anything else or are you ready for the check?”

Adora pushed the milkshake glass away abruptly. “Uhh...no. Thanks. I think I’m just gonna sit for a while.”

“Our lunch rush is coming in soon, so I need to turn over your table if you’re not eating.”

“Oh. Sure.” What if Catra showed up right after Adora left? That would only make things worse--if they could get any worse. Adora had to stall. “You know what? Could I see a menu? Please?”

The waiter huffed and left. He returned a moment later with a menu and stood by the table as she read very, very meticulously. She could feel the waiter rolling his eyes at her. 

Adora pointed at an item. “What’s in the, uh...eggs Benedict?”

“Eggs.”

“Mhm. Mhm. And the vegan bacon is...?”

“Not meat.”

“Oh, well, never mind then. What’s the point of bacon if it’s not even meat, amirite?” She laughed. When the waiter just glared at her, she pretended to cough. “How ‘bout pancakes? But like, maybe some fancy pancakes?”

The waiter sighed and turned her menu to the front page. It was a full-color splash page showing a giant, puffy, crater-like pastry with fresh berries in the middle.

Adora read the banner at the top of the page. “’Noelle’s Famous Fancy Pancakes, serving up smiles since 1985.’ Okay, yeah. I guess I could have figured that one out.” She turned to the pancake page and noticed a little asterisk below the header. “Do these really take half an hour to make?”

“No, we lie to all our customers on purpose,” the waiter said sarcastically. “Are you actually ordering something or not?”

"Yeah, of course. I guess I'll get the--" Just then, Adora heard a loud _PTANG_ from the corner of the booth. A loud _FWOOF_ followed as Catra’s sleeping bag exploded out of its restraints and spilled onto her lap. Both Adora and the waiter stared at the source of the sudden outburst.

She slowly turned to him and looked up sheepishly. “Pumpkin spice?”

The waiter stood frozen with his pencil hovering over his notepad. He shot her one last glare and left without writing anything down.

Adora slumped down into the booth. She did not have the willpower to deal with this stupid sleeping bag again.

***

Catra limped into her room and dropped her field hockey gear on the floor in a careless heap. She was sure she heard her stick crack again, but it was probably nothing another layer of duct tape couldn’t fix. Right now, she really needed to get some ice on her left ankle. Saturday practices were skirmish days, and she’d twisted it in a divot of her own creation while trying to stop a goal. As a forward, she'd been way out of position back at her own team's 25-yard line, but she didn’t trust Lonnie to block Scorpia’s brutal slapshots. Running up and down the field while trying to play aggressively had taken more of a toll on Catra than it did on the opposing team. 

For a second, Catra considered starting on her English readings, but there was some very important television that needed her attention. As her phone recovered from its dead battery, she wrapped an ice pack around her ankle and propped her foot up on a pillow. Just as she opened her computer, her phone came back to life. Eight messages, including four from a group project group chat that was very much on mute. Socializing was the last thing she wanted to do after being locked in a gym with other people all night, but she lay back and scrolled through the rest of the messages just to make sure she wasn’t missing anything groundbreaking.

 **(Unknown) (10:30 pm)** \- _[stitch_hi.gif]_

 **Scorpia (11:30 pm)** \- _Hey Catra, you remember my friend Entrapta with the purple hair? Twister master? Came to the lockdown with us? She thinks you’re super cool (which is true of course) so she stole your number out of my phone_

 **Scorpia (11:30 pm)** \- _Pretty sure she just sent you a picture of Stitch. Yeah, she did. Aww, isn’t he cute?? <3 <3_

Catra had a feeling she’d be roped into a very strange conversation if she texted Entrapta back. Easy enough to pretend she never got those messages.

The two messages from Adora, on the other hand, weren’t going to let her watch TV in peace.

 **Adora (10:39 am)** \- _Hey, are you coming to the diner?_

 **Adora (10:40 am)** \- _I have your sleeping bag_

Right then, a third message from Adora came in.

 **Adora (12:45 pm)** \- _So turns out the diner has a 2 hour limit for parties of one_

Something hardened in her chest when she imagined Adora sitting alone at Noelle’s for two hours. She dropped her hand onto her face and tried to swallow past the lump in the back of her throat. Maybe it was because of the pain in her ankle, or something weird in Scorpia’s brownies. Maybe she just really, really missed her sleeping bag.

Instead of texting back, Catra hit the call icon.

Adora picked up after half a ring.

_“Catra?”_

“Hey, Adora.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas gays!!!!! here's a surprise mini-chapter for all you wonderful people. tune in on Saturday to see if these two idiots can actually figure out how to talk to each other again. 
> 
> on a serious note, i know the holidays can be tough for some folks for various reasons, but i hope that each and every one of you finds something to smile about today. <3


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey, Adora.”

Catra blanked after that. Considering all of the awkwardness between them, that greeting was far too normal. But what else was she supposed to say? She certainly wasn’t going to apologize. Not first, anyway.

Adora’s voice came through. Hesitant. _“So...what’s up?”_

Catra would rather jump into a freezing lake than continue with this bullshit smalltalk, but the alternative was worse. Actually opening up--that would be like diving headfirst into a pit of lava.

“You’re holding my sleeping bag hostage,” Catra replied, opting for the freezing lake.

 _“I’m not--”_ Adora paused. _“I mean, yeah. Obviously. And it worked, so. Ha.”_

“Sure, Adora.” Catra snorted. Adora wasn’t planning anything, just being nice. How obnoxious.

_“Hey, is there a secret to getting that stupid thing to fit into the little pouch? Because I spent like ten minutes trying to cram it in there.”_

Catra couldn’t help but snicker at the image of Adora wrestling with a sleeping bag and losing.

 _“It really didn’t work,”_ Adora added with her own half-hearted chuckle.

“I bet.”

For a split-second, it almost felt normal.

Then...another long pause.

Catra couldn’t do this. She couldn’t.

The silence went on so long she thought the call had dropped.

“Adora?”

A sharp, staticky inhale. _“Yeah?”_

Catra circled back, too anxious to push the conversation in another direction. “So are you gonna give my sleeping bag back or what?”

_“Hmm. Depends. Make me an offer.”_

“Give it back or I’ll climb in through your window while you’re at school and steal it back.”

_“You’re pretty confident in your cat burglary skills for someone who’s afraid of heights.”_

There it was again: Adora’s uncanny ability to defuse Catra’s arguments with a single phrase, a snip of a wire. Catra usually felt like there was a foot pressing on her chest when Adora made such comments, but this time she felt her face grow warm as she imagined Adora’s smug expression. One eyebrow raised. That stupid little smirk. As she pictured it, Catra thought about how much harder it would be to have this conversation in person. She wouldn’t be able to keep her head on straight if Adora’s charmingly cocky face was right in front of her.

Adora let out a dry laugh. _“I can’t believe I had to ransom your sleeping bag to get you to call me.”_

Fine. Catra could tease, too. “You didn’t even make demands 'til I gave you the idea. Amateur."

_“I wouldn’t have a hostage in the first place if you’d come to breakfast with me.”_

Adora clearly wasn’t going to let Catra continue to derail this conversation with jokes and tangents, and Catra had to resist her impulse to hang up. She knew that would be like driving a wrecking ball through a balsa wood frame. Irreparable.

“Saturday practice, remember? It’s not my fault you slept ‘til eleven.” She wasn’t running, so her only other option was biting back.

 _“Why didn’t you wake me up? Or text me?”_ Adora's voice was small. This wasn’t an accusation--it was a plea. _“I waited for two hours.”_

“My phone died,” Catra said. She couldn’t stop herself from digging her claws in a little deeper. “Not so fun getting left behind, is it?”

 _“Seriously, Catra?”_ Adora sounded more frustrated than anything, like she was trying to walk up a wall and didn’t understand why she kept falling.

Pain flared again in Catra’s ankle. “Ugh. Stupid ankle.”

_“Whoa, what? Did something happen?”_

Catra rolled her eyes. Of course Adora would still be concerned about her health despite everything going on. Her ankle silently screamed again, and Catra felt her willpower crumble.

“I’m sorry, okay? Like, actually.”

Adora took a moment, then went on. _“Can I ask you something?”_

The pain in Catra’s ankle flared up as if to warn her against making another snarky comment. She stayed quiet, listening.

_“Can we pretend--for like five minutes--that this whole week never happened?”_

“What?” Catra was thrown by the sheer directness of the question, like a paralyzing dart to the heart.

 _“I hate not talking to you,”_ Adora started. _“I miss hearing about your math teacher’s distractingly shiny bald spot. I miss you rescuing me from impossible problem sets by sitting on my desk until I took a snack break. I even miss getting in trouble in English for laughing at your ridiculous selfies.”_

Each sentence reached into Catra’s chest and wound its around her heart like a python. She held her breath, frozen, afraid of what might happen if she moved--or worse, spoke. And if Adora kept talking, kept saying all of these things...Catra might crack open entirely. She gripped her phone so tightly that she worried she might crush it.

 _“I know it’ll be different and maybe a little weird at first, but I don’t care. I’m so tired of being angry. I...”_ Adora trailed off.

A long pause. Unbearably long. Another shaky inhale--

_“I miss you like crazy, Catra.”_

All of the stupid wishes and what-ifs and maybes that Catra had tried so hard to burn flooded into her mind.

_“Okay, I feel like I’m talking a lot, and the whole point of this was for us both to say stuff, so.”_

She couldn’t let them drag her under. She couldn't--but she was drowning fast. 

_“Catra?”_

Catra barely noticed as the ice pack slid off of her foot and hit the floor with a dull thud. “Yeah, I’m...” she said, the hoarse words barely escaping her clenched throat.

She had to respond. But how could she talk without breaking? She sat up and clenched her sheets in her hand. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her breath was swept away by the hurricane of emotions that swallowed every other thought and feeling until a single truth lay untouched in the eye. 

She was angry with herself, not Adora.

How could she be stupid enough to fall in love with her best friend?

***

Why wasn’t Catra saying anything?

Adora didn’t understand. Had she said something wrong? Probably. She’d only been rambling for the past minute and a half. It didn’t help that they complemented each other in the worst way when they were angry: Adora couldn’t shut up, Catra withdrew into silence, and Catra’s silence only made Adora want to talk more. The stabbing lack of a response felt worse than any potentially scathing comments.

Unfortunately, Adora had run out of words. She hadn’t expected to say so much, and she worried that she’d come dangerously close to opening a door that couldn’t be closed again. All she could do now was wish and hope that Catra wouldn’t run again.

Adora heard herself speak. “Please don’t hang up on me.”

After a strange moment of quiet, Catra’s reponse came. _“Jeez. I called you, remember? I’m not a_ total _jackass.”_

Normally, Adora would take such a statement as an invitation for teasing, but humor was the furthest thing from her mind right now.

 _“Alright,”_ Catra started. _“Let’s pretend.”_

“Wh--really?” Adora replied, surprised that something in her incoherent rambling actually stuck with Catra.

_"Let's pretend this week never happened."_

This was good. Words. Catra was saying words again. And they weren't even close to heartbreaking. 

_“Monday after school. Pick me up from practice. Buy me those pancakes.”_

“Are you serious? You’re not gonna ditch me this time?”

_“I promise.”_

Adora couldn’t stop herself from smiling for the rest of the weekend. 

On Sunday, she drove an hour to an outlet mall with Bow and Glimmer to help Bow pick out some new cleats (he went with neon pink and rainbow laces despite Glimmer’s insistence that the color palettes clashed). Adora had been to malls before, but never one like this. After they got Bow his shoes, they spent the rest of the day roaming the shopping center, and Adora was completely enamored with the entire experience. There were little kiosks with free samples of chocolates, crackers, and specialty holiday beef sticks. The boutiques seemed to be pulled right out of Adora’s deepest dreams; Glimmer had to physically drag her out of a store that sold replica swords.

The food court was absolutely glorious. Dozens of bodegas, booths, and delis all boasting innovative cuisines and mouth-watering flavors. Adora spent a full minute just staring in awe before Bow pointed out the cinnamon roll stand. After that, none of the other stores even mattered. Adora ordered three full-sized cinnamon rolls and was sure she’d unlocked the secret to happiness.

“I never would've pegged you for a mall teen,” Bow commented, popping a mini-cini into his mouth.

Adora shrugged. "I've seen malls before, but this is like...the Mall of America of malls." 

"You know that's a mall, right?" 

"I thought it was some huge indoor amusement park." 

"It's both," Bow said. Adora simply gawked. 

Glimmer reached over and Bow pushed the box of mini rolls towards her. “Ooh, did you get chocolate sauce with these?” She asked. 

“There’s chocolate sauce?!” Adora exclaimed, already halfway through her second cinnamon roll.

“Yeah, it’s right there on the menu.” Bow pointed to a small sign hanging from the bigger menu.

Adora lunged across the table and grabbed him by the collar. “I. Need. It.”

“Maybe more sugar’s not the best idea,” Glimmer suggested.

“Glimmer’s right. You might want to slow your roll a little.” Bow turned to Glimmer and raised his hand for a high five. “Get it? Slow your _roll?”_

“Ugh. That was terrible.” She high-fived him anyway. “Sugar high aside, Adora, how are you feeling? You seem a lot less stressed than you were on Friday.”

Adora nodded, entirely unable to speak through her mouthful of sugary cinnamon goodness.

“That’s great,” Bow said. “We were pretty worried. Glimmer’s mom wouldn’t stop asking about you at dinner.”

“She can be a little overprotective. Trust me, I know,” Glimmer explained. “She wouldn’t let me play in games until last year because she was terrified I’d take a stick to the knee.”

“Which she did,” Bow pointed out. “Third game of the season. She tried to stop a slapshot with her leg instead of her stick. Crutches for two weeks.”

Glimmer crossed her arms. “Whatever. We won, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but you missed homecoming! I had to do our Mr. Brightside routine all by myself.”

Adora finally swallowed her giant bite of cinnamon roll. “Hang on. Routines? You mean, like, victory dances?”

“No, _school_ dances,” Bow explained. “It's all part of homecoming. Games in the afternoon, dancing at night.”

Glimmer narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “They did have dances at Hordak, didn’t they?”

Bow recoiled at the implication.

Adora laughed nervously. “Aheh, pfft. Yeah. Of course we do. Did.” Adora glanced down at her remaining roll, her appetite suddenly extinct at the mention of dancing. “I just never...exactly...went.” She’d been asked to dances plenty of times, which only made her want to attend less. The thought of embarrassing herself in front of a date was far too much to handle.

“Oh, you’re definitely coming to this one.” Bow’s confident grin did nothing to ease Adora’s discomfort.

“It’ll be fun, I swear,” Glimmer said, taking Adora’s hand across the table. “We can hang out, eat snacks--” Glimmer interrupted herself with a dramatic gasp. “We can go dress shopping!”

Adora tried to pull her hand out of Glimmer’s suddenly very tight grip. “Love the enthusiasm, but can you--”

“Or suit shopping, whatever you prefer,” Bow cut in. “I’m an expert on tux styling.”

Glimmer finally released Adora’s now-crushed fingers and threw her hands up into the air. “This is so exciting! Fortunately, the dance isn't for a few weeks, so we have plenty of time to plan.”

“...Plan a different activity that doesn’t involve dancing?” Adora asked hopefully.

“No, your perfect outfit!” Bow said, beaming. “We’ll find something you love. Don’t worry.” He put his arm around Glimmer’s shoulders. “We’re professionals.”

Glimmer nodded in agreement.

Adora groaned and slowly accepted the fact that she wasn’t going to get out of this dance. Silver lining: she still had a third cinnamon roll to conquer.

She got up. “Fine. We can talk about dance outfits later, but right now I’m getting chocolate sauce. Anybody want anything?”

“Seriously, Adora. You’re gonna get sick,” Bow warned.

“Don’t you want to be in tip-top shape for practice tomorrow?” Glimmer added.

Adora looked between them. “I mean, of course. Monday funday, am I right?”

Bow and Glimmer exchanged a look. She whispered something to him and he made a face that meant either he didn’t like her idea or he’d just smelled something awful.

“Well, I’m telling her,” Glimmer insisted.

Adora sat down abruptly, intrigued. “Telling me what?”

Glimmer folded her hands on the table. “Coach Angella has invited someone to watch our practice tomorrow.”

“Like, a prospective student?”

“More like a scout from Greyskull University,” Bow blurted out.

“Bow! I was gonna tell her!” Glimmer scoffed. “But yes, a Greyskull scout is coming tomorrow.”

Adora’s jaw dropped. “And you let me eat all those cinnamon rolls?!”

“I really don’t think we could have stopped you,” Bow said.

“That is--probably true,” Adora admitted, pointing a finger at Bow. “But you could have told me!”

Glimmer’s guilty face made Adora immediately regret what she’d said. “I’m sorry,” Glimmer said. “My mom didn’t want to tell anyone. She thought we'd play better if we didn’t know someone important was watching.”

Adora slumped in her seat. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Hey, you’re gonna do great tomorrow,” Bow said, flashing a thumbs up. “We all are! The Bright Moon Rebels are ready to--”

“Don’t say roll,” Glimmer said to herself.

 _“Roll!”_ Bow jumped out of his chair and fist pumped.

Adora smiled up at him. “You’re right, Bow. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go home and do three hundred crunches.”

On the way home, Glimmer dropped Bow off first. Adora was a little shocked to learn that he didn’t actually live at Glimmer’s house, but apparently he did go home sometimes. As they pulled up to Adora’s house, Glimmer put her car in park.

“It was really great hanging out with you today,” she said with a little smile.

“Yeah, you too. Thanks for inviting me,” Adora said.

Glimmer, seatbelt still buckled, turned as far as she could to face the passenger’s seat. “I’m sorry your first week was a little tough. But I really think you’ll find your place at Bright Moon.”

“Thanks, Glimmer.”

“Considering everything my mom had to do to get you on our team, she definitely believes in you.”

Adora raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? What did she have to do?”

“Bright Moon didn’t even have sports scholarships before. She got a whole new category made just to make sure you could swing it.”

“Wow, that’s...I had no idea,” Adora said, suddenly feeling like she’d been sucker punched in the stomach. “She did all that for me?”

“Like I said, she really believes in you,” Glimmer said. She put her hand on Adora’s again. “And, for what it’s worth, so do I.”

Adora just smiled--she wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Glimmer had seen her play in games maybe four times, and practices weren’t always the best gauge of how someone might perform in a competitive setting. A lot of people froze up when others were paying attention, and apparently Bright Moon had expectations through the roof. 

“Speaking of my mom, I need to get home. Be sure to get some sleep tonight!” Glimmer unlocked the car doors and waved as Adora got out.

That night, Adora went over her class schedule seven times to make sure she knew where she was going and when. A full day of classes followed by practice with a Greyskull scout. And dinner with Catra.

As Adora lay awake long past midnight, she wondered how many people she would end up disappointing on a single Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time: will adora survive the most stressful monday in the history of mondays? will catra finally let herself be gay? will the waiter at the diner purposefully serve adora's pancakes cold?
> 
> *fun fact: i cranked out this chapter as a big ol' "fuck you" to my ovaries for being such jackasses this week!!! for sale: two ovaries, never functional (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:·ﾟ✧


	8. Chapter 8

Three lists later, Adora still felt underprepared for the Monday from hell. It was 2am, which meant she’d already failed the first item on her general to-do list: get enough sleep. She wasn’t the slightest bit tired despite her sugar crash, so now she was spiraling into a paranoid, irritated haze. The other sixteen bullet points on the list were there to remind her of little things she needed to get done throughout the day. After hesitating for a moment, she included “lunch” as a separate item. Nerves usually disintegrated her appetite, but she needed to keep her blood sugar up. As a sub-bullet to “lunch,” she scribbled in “pack protein bars (2).”

She’d started on her second list during dinner, which involved reviewing all of the plays in the Bright Moon Rebels’ handbook. Granted, she was the goalie, so different formations didn’t exactly affect her positioning. But if everybody else on the team was supposed to know these plays, then so would she. What if Coach Angella decided to give a pop quiz? Adora wasn’t going to let a lack of studying drag her down, especially in front of a scout. Unfortunately, reviewing for practice meant less time to go over her English notes on rhetorical appeals. She hoped that she could B.S. her way through the practice in-class essay. If the purpose of the unit was to learn how to construct an effective argument on the spot, then wasn’t studying technically cheating? And so the spiral continued...

Surely she’d had enough practice with persuasion recently. Getting Catra to agree to dinner had been tough, to say the least. That whole conversation had gone completely off the rails, emotionally speaking. Adora hadn’t intended to reveal so much, but the sound of Catra’s voice had dragged out all of Adora’s messy, confusing feelings. Well, almost all of them. She’d managed to keep the most fragile ones caged. For now. All she had to do was survive this dinner, which, according to her own proposition, was going to be nothing but normal. Uncomfortably, aggressively, _agonizingly_ normal.

Adora’s third list detailed every topic that she intended to avoid discussing with Catra. By 2:13am, it included:

1\. Mice

2\. Coach Weaver

>2a. The spy thing???

3\. We’ve been best friends for a really long time and this is probably super SUPER weird but I think I

...And that was it. If she was being perfectly honest with herself, “mice” wasn’t even worth putting on the list. Catra hated mice. Any mention of them made every hair on her head visibly stand on end. She became incredibly paranoid and twitchy, which made screaming “Mouse!” in public places one of Adora’s favorite pranks. It worked every time. Considering they were meeting in a food establishment, well...maybe avoiding jokes about rodent-related health code violations was a good plan. Plus, she couldn’t give Catra even the smallest excuse to run away again, and the mention of mice might very well make her bolt out the door.

Adora wanted this dinner to go well. She needed it to. But before she could even focus on that, she had to impress someone who could lead her to college, scholarships, and extremely rare career opportunities.

Again, no pressure.

She stared at the clock for a long time, watching it change from 2:16 to 2:17. She glanced down at her list and decided that sleep was more important than elaborating on bullet number three.

In the morning, Adora managed to wake up a full four minutes before her alarm went off. Not enough time to go back to sleep, but just enough to get mad at herself for not taking full advantage of those precious minutes.

By some miracle, she managed to get to all of the right classes on time. Before World History started, Glimmer quickly noticed Adora’s possibly-more-than-a-little-nervous state.

“I knew it! I should never have told you about--” she cut herself off and leaned in close. In a whisper, she finished, “The scout.” There were a few other field hockey players in their class, including a girl whose style could only be described as mermaid-chic. Considering the girl never seemed interested in what other people were saying, Adora wasn’t sure why Glimmer bothered whispering. The mermaid girl sat next to the blonde girl who Adora only knew as the head of the Open Lands Club. She plugged her tree-hugging club at the end of almost every practice.

“Nah, I’m actually glad you told me,” Adora replied, taking out her pencil sharpener.

Glimmer narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. I like to be prepared.” For a moment, Adora only heard the chafing sound of the pencil sharpener.

“Adora? You know you’re sharpening a purple colored pencil, right?”

Looking down, Adora saw that Glimmer spoke the truth.

Glimmer’s hand gently stopped Adora from sharpening her colored pencil into oblivion. “You seem...a little stressed.”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t get that much sleep, but I’m fine.”

“Adora--”

“I said I’m fine!”

The classroom went quiet. Of course everyone was looking at the weird new girl who was very unconvincingly screaming about how not sleep-deprived she was. Even the mermaid girl was tuned in.

Adora snatched her hand away from Glimmer and put her pencil sharpener away. Without another word, she took out her notebook, shoved her backpack under her seat, and got ready to take notes, refusing to look up at anyone. When she went to write the date on her paper, she realized she had no writing implement at her disposal.

Before Adora could even reach for her bag, Glimmer tapped her on the shoulder.

With a concerned smile, she held out a sparkly pink gel pen.

Adora was usually very strict about how she took notes, but she figured that writing in pink pen could only make reviewing these notes more interesting later on.

“Thanks,” she said. “And sorry,” she muttered.

“Take it easy, okay?” Glimmer said. “Nobody's worth losing sleep over. Even a scout from Greyskull.”

Adora took a deep breath and nodded. Glimmer was right. Unfortunately, there were a hundred other reasons Adora hadn’t slept, and she couldn’t possibly explain them all in the four seconds before Mrs. Hope floated into the classroom.

Most of the day went by quickly, but then last period rolled around. Adora was trapped in a study hall for forty-five minutes. Did teachers really expect students to jump at the chance to do homework at the end of a long the school day? How was Adora supposed to focus on anything homework related, today of all days? She spent the first twenty minutes trying to distract herself by watching stupid videos on her phone under the table. She soon realized that she was paying exactly no attention to what was on her screen. There was no way the teacher hadn’t noticed Adora’s strange posture and headphones, but he seemed to share the students’ indifference to the “no phones” rule. With his bored posture and baby face, Adora guessed that he was often mistaken for a student.

Adora thought about slipping out early. The teacher was at the front of the classroom, but he had his feet up on the cabinet behind him, facing away from the students. Her table was second-closest to the door. If she left now, she would have plenty of time to change into her practice clothes without stressing about sprinting out to the field right away. She could even run a few extra laps to clear her head.

Slowly, she sank down in her chair, inch by inch. It was the most entertaining thing she’d done all study hall, but it drew the attention of her table mate, a girl with short hair who looked like she was about ten years old. Fortunately, this girl truly did not care what was going on around her, and she returned her eyes to her problem set. Adora continued her descent under the table, and when her eyes sank just below the edge, she reached for her backpack.

Just when she grabbed the strap, a shadow fell over her.

“Taking a little nap in study hall?” The teacher towered over her, suddenly very concerned with the rules of the classroom. His phone had probably died in the middle of whatever game he was playing.

“Uhh,” Adora so eloquently managed.

“Let’s get on that homework, huh? Save your nap for when that clock hits 3.”

Knowing that she was hours from actually being able to sleep, Adora simply let her forehead meet the table in front of her.

“Uh-uh. Twenty more minutes,” the teacher reiterated.

Twenty-three minutes, actually, but who was counting? With a sigh, Adora resigned herself to the fact that she would probably be trapped in this study hall forever, doomed to anxiously fixate on everything else she needed to do that evening.

Although the teacher might be suffering without his Angry Birds fix, Adora still had her phone. It made sense to confirm her dinner plans, right? That was a normal thing that normal people did.

 **Adora (2:38 pm)** \- _Hey, are we still on for dinner?_

The response came fast. Adora’s phone buzzed on top of the table, drawing a warning look from the teacher. Adora made a show of putting the phone away in her backpack, then tried to hide it slyly under the table.

 **Catra (2:38 pm)** - _duh_

 **Catra (2:38 pm)** \- _you’re still picking me up right_

 **Adora (2:39 pm)** \- _How come you only use apostrophes and no other punctuation or anything_

 **Catra (2:39 pm)** \- _your*_

 **Catra (2:39 pm)** \- _better?_

Adora rolled her eyes. She knew that Catra was messing with her. It felt...normal. Adora decided to play along.

 **Adora (2:39 pm)** \- _Pretty fast response there_

 **Adora (2:39 pm)** \- _Careful, someone might think you’re excited to see me_

 **Catra (2:40 pm)** \- _gross shut up_

 **Catra (2:40 pm)** \- _i will literally go blind if i look at the projector light reflecting off henshaw’s bald spot one more time_

 **Catra (2:40 pm)** \- _and you happen to be a convenient distraction_

 **Adora (2:41 pm)** \- _Sure, Catra. Suuuure._

 **Catra (2:41 pm)** \- _hey i just remembered that i have plans tonight gotta cancel_

Adora froze. She cursed the sinking feeling in her stomach. Before the past week, she never would have doubted that Catra was just messing around. But now?

 **Adora (2:42 pm)** \- _Wait you’re not serious are you?_

 **Catra (2:43 pm)** \- _your*_

Okay. Joking. She was joking. Everything was fine.

 **Catra (2:43 pm)** \- _did you know that geometry actually kills brain cells_

 **Adora (2:43 pm)** \- _Oh yeah. We learned about that in bio last week._

 **Catra (2:43 pm)** \- _though you were in chem_

 **Catra (2:43 pm)** \- _thought*_

 **Catra (2:43 pm)** \- _thot**_

Adora snorted, barely stifling her laugh. The teacher flashed another warning look along with a classic “I’m watching you” gesture.

 **Catra (2:43 pm)** \- _wait are you actually texting during class_

 **Catra (2:43 pm)** \- _not just leaving me on read_

 **Adora (2:44 pm)** - _It’s study hall, don’t flatter yourself :P_

Was that too mean? It was too mean, wasn’t it? No way they were back at that level where they could poke and prod each other without hitting a nerve. When Catra’s instant replies suddenly stopped, Adora started to worry. She quickly tried to change the subject.

 **Adora (2:45 pm)** \- _I’m pretty sure study hall is the #2 killer of brain cells after geometry_

Another minute. Still nothing. Great. Awesome.

Adora heard a throat clearing sound above her. She looked up with a broad, overcompensating grin to see the study hall supervisor staring down at her, arms crossed.

“How’s that homework coming along?”

“I...finished it,” Adora said.

“Really?” The teacher looked more surprised than skeptical.

“Yes. All of it. All of the homework. It’s done.”

The teacher sighed. Adora recognized that tone--any teacher at Hordak who’d ever taught Catra had mastered the same resigned exhale. Oh no. Between all of the accidental absences, tardiness, and now getting caught texting in class...was Adora a delinquent now?

Adora slid her phone into her boot as covertly as she could. Then, for some reason, the teacher pulled a chair around and sat down next to her. The other girl at the table glared at him with the same icy stare that a vindictive child might give their parents for letting their pasta touch their snow peas on a plate.

The teacher looekd thoughtful for a second, then whispered to Adora, “You’re new here, right?” He didn’t sound angry, just genuinely curious.

She exhaled a breath she’d been holding for the past minute. “Yeah.”

His expression softened from stern to something bordering on pity.

“Hey, you two,” the girl spoke up. “Some of us are actually trying to do homework, not just lying about it.”

“My apologies,” the teacher said. It wasn’t clear if he was just playing along or if he was actually intimidated by this girl. He turned back to Adora. “Try to stay focused, okay?”

Somehow, it wasn’t the most helpful advice.

By some stroke of luck, there were only eight minutes left in study hall when the supervisor stood up.

“Alright, everyone. Good work today. You can head out a little early.” He nodded conspiratorially to Adora and returned to the front of the classroom.

Adora spent exactly one and a half seconds processing this information before dashing out of the classroom. Eight extra minutes to review plays. Or stretch. Or--

“Adora!”

The voice came from behind her. It definitely wasn’t Bow’s, and it didn’t sound like Glimmer, either. Adora turned around to see the blonde girl from her history class waving to her. The girl smiled brightly as she approached.

“Hey..!” Adora greeted her. “Good to see you!”

“Perfuma,” the girl said.

Adora let her fake smile drop. “Gah, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright. You’ve got a lot of new faces to remember.”

“Perfuma,” Adora repeated. “Got it.”

“Heading down to practice?” Perfuma asked.

They fell into step next to each other.

***

Three o’clock--fucking _finally_. This class was a nightmare.

Catra slid her notebook and papers off her desk into her backpack, slung the bag over her shoulder, and strode up to the front of the classroom. Mr. Henshaw was preoccupied with trying to wrangle six different colorful folders into his weird teacher briefcase.

“Can I have my phone back?” Catra asked.

Henshaw jumped. “Oh. Catra.”

She didn’t miss the note of disappointment in his voice. Normally she would retort with some cutting comment about how his head looked less shiny than usual, but for some reason she wasn’t in the mood.

The teacher opened the top-right drawer of his desk. Inside, a few spare pencils, Catra’s phone, and extra shiny wax **FOR REAL MEN**. Her knee-jerk response was to break out cackling, but she knew that calling attention to her teacher’s choice of aggressively masculine styling product would likely lead to another day without her phone. She caught herself after a single awkward snort and passed it off as a cough.

“Bless you,” Henshaw said as he picked up the phone. He handed her the phone.

“...Thanks.”

As she reached for her phone, he pulled it back. “Next time it’s for a week.”

“Is that even legal?” Catra asked.

Henshaw threw out his best disappointed dad look.

“Ugh. Fine.” She plucked the phone out of his hand and headed out. As she turned to leave, her ankle rudely reminded her that it wasn’t done throwing a tantrum. The dull pain flared up.

Scorpia was waiting outside, and she saw Catra stumble and lean on the doorframe for support.

“Whoa, there. I gotcha.” She grabbed Catra’s shoulder and helped her stand straight.

Catra snatched her arm away. “Scorpia, remember that little talk we had about personal space?”

“My bad, my bad.” Scorpia put her hands up and took a step back. “But hey, are you sure you’re okay to play?”

“What? Obviously. I’m fine.”

“Whatever you say, Catra. Whatever you say.”

Catra growled at that. What was that supposed to mean?

“Oh, hey--I think Coach Weaver’s announcing captains today.”

Catra froze. “She is?”

“Oh, yeah. Aren’t you excited? You don’t sound excited.”

“Whatever.”

Scorpia got right up in Catra’s face and squinted at her. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Scorpia.”

“Right, sorry. Five foot radius.” She backed out of Catra’s space. “But for real. You seem...a little...I don’t know...nervous?”

Catra scoffed. “Like I have anything to worry about.”

“Coulda fooled me. Come on, we don’t wanna be late.”

Scorpia went ahead a bit, waiting for Catra to catch up. Catra knew that if she kept up, Scorpia would talk the entire way down to practice. Maybe a verbose distraction would help Catra forget about the pain in her ankle and the bubbling anxiety in her chest.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i was at breakfast with my dad last week and four bites into his corned beef hash he looked me straight in the eye and asked, "what does thot mean?" so now i have to live with that
> 
> anyway this week kicked my ass and i'm not sure how this chapter got written but here it is!!! i promise i'll stop stressing u all out with buildup. now i will stress u all out with major plot points :)


	9. Chapter 9

Sweating while exercising was normal. Adora knew that. Nothing to be embarrassed about. What _was_ embarrassing was the fact that she had dropped her stick twice already--and she wasn’t even on the field yet. Her clammy palms and twitchy fingers seemed determined to sabotage her. Luckily, only Perfuma and the mermaid girl were around to witness Adora’s clumsiness.

The second time Adora let her stick clatter to the floor, the mermaid girl sighed loudly.

“Sorry,” Adora offered.

“Ugh, whatever,” the girl answered. She lay down on a bench. “I so do _not_ want to go practice today.”

“But what about the scout?” Perfuma asked.

Adora didn’t remember mentioning the supposedly surprise guest. “You guys know about that?”

“Uh, duh,” the mermaid girl retorted, barely glancing in Adora’s direction.

“Mermista,” Perfuma chided. Adora mentally filed away the name, repeating it to herself quietly. She was finally starting to remember her teammates. At this rate, she might be able to avoid another awkward encounter like her conversation with Perfuma earlier. Not everyone would be so chill and understanding.

“Sorry. I had a bio test today and I can’t stop thinking about how gross mushrooms are.” Mermista shuddered as sat up. “Wait, was the scout thing a secret? Glimmer told, like, literally everybody.”

Adora and Perfuma looked at each other and shrugged in unison. Just then, the door to the locker room burst open.

“There’s a SCOUT COMING TODAY?” Entrapta’s voice was unmistakable, both in tone and volume. She ran over to the bench where Mermista sat and got right up in her face. “Why didn’t anybody tell me?!”

“Not gonna get into whatever’s going on here...” Mermista muttered. “I’ll see you guys outside. Try not to lose your stick.” With a pointed look at Adora, she picked up her own stick and left.

As soon as Mermista was gone, Entrapta attention snapped to the next closest person in the room. She swept up to Adora’s side just as Adora was pulling her shirt on., and Adora jumped when she saw Entrapta suddenly standing so much closer. Like a cat lurking under the kitchen table.

“Serendipitously, I keep an extra copy of my blueprints for my featherweight carbon fiber sticks in my locker,” Entrapta said.

“Sounds very...serendipitous,” Perfuma said, her normally calm voice straining to stay as such. “But maybe we shouldn’t overwhelm the scout. He’s here to watch us play, after all.”

Adora’s stomach flipped at the reminder.

Entraptra wrung her hands together. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a little extra reading material. What if he gets bored?”

“Bored? It’s his job to--” Perfuma stopped herself and took a deep, centering breath. “Okay. Ooookay. Let’s all just do what we came here to do, alright? We’ll play, the scout will watch, and you’ll do manager things.”

“But what about my--”

“He doesn’t want to see your blueprints!” Perfuma snapped. She covered her mouth, immediately remorseful. “Entrapta, I’m sorry.”

Entrapta was stoic. “Right. I’ll just go fill up the water bottles.”

Perfuma’s face fell. She started to say something, but Entrapta wasn’t interested in continuing their conversation.

Adora put her hand on Perfuma’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Perfuma shook her head. She looked like she might cry. “I don’t know what came over me! She's just so frustrating sometimes. But we’re supposed to be a team, and I was so rude to her...”

“Hey, we’re all stressed about today. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Adora offered a smile that she hoped came off as encouraging. She still felt like she might throw up any second, but there was no reason to lose her cool in front of her teammates, especially if they were having trouble holding it together themselves.

Perfuma gazed at her with bright, shining, hopeful eyes. She pulled Adora into a hug. “I’m really glad you’re on the team, Adora. We all are. There’s no way this scout won’t be impressed by you.”

Adora cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “We should, uh...probably get out there.”

Of course the sky chose the worst possible day to rain. As Adora stepped outside, she kicked down into the quickly softening dirt to make sure that her cleats still functioned properly. The last thing she needed to do was wipe out while trying to make a save.

 _Well_ , she thought, _here goes nothing._

***

For the first time in any skirmish ever, Catra was benched. Benched--just because her stupid ankle gave out during stupid warmup laps and stupid Scorpia had to help her walk off the stupid field and sit on the _stupid bench_. Catra really, really needed to blow something up right about now. No way she was going to get captain after that. By trying to run on an injury, she’d only proven Coach Weaver’s worst theories about her. Short-sighted. Impulsive. Reckless. Not exactly leadership qualities.

As she unlaced her cleats, the slightest pressure on her ankle was enough to send pain shooting up her leg. That was probably a bad sign. She tried tugging the shoe off again and hissed at the stabbing sensation. Whatever. Her cleats could stay on. She could wear them to dinner if she really had to, call it a fashion statement.

Watching her teammates practice the same exact drills over and over got boring after about two minutes. Nobody was slipping in the mud, which completely defeated the point of paying attention. Catra’s mind drifted back to--what else?--dinner with Adora. She didn’t usually care for overthinking social engagements, but something about this particularly plan had her on edge. Sometimes, her conversations with Adora felt like the easiest thing in the world. And then she would remember the sting of being abandoned, or the way her stomach tightened every time she got a text, or that smug face that Adora made every time she knew exactly what Catra was thinking. Then the frustration would ignite in her chest, sparking defensive, nasty words like fireworks.

She smirked to herself--at least she could find some pride in her consistency. Short-sighted. Impulsive. Reckless. The same, on and off the field.

A loud _KLACK_ tore Catra out of her introspection.

“Heads up!” Someone shouted from the field.

Catra looked up from her cleats just in time to see a bright orange field hockey ball hurtling through air. Straight at her.

She yelped and fell backwards, barely dodging the ball and landing unpleasantly on her back in the grass.

“Oof. Now that was a close one,” Scorpia’s voice carried. Then she called out, “You alright, pal?”

Catra hauled herself off the ground, hopping up to avoid putting weight on her bad foot. She flashed a thumbs up and took her seat again. Everyone, of course, was staring at her, including Coach Weaver.

“You need an ice pack or something?” Scorpia shouted.

“I’m fine,” Catra insisted.

“You let me know, okay?”

Coach Weaver blew her whistle and barked a new order at the team. Everyone shuffled around the field to set up for a shooting drill, and Catra sighed. It was one of the few drills she didn’t hate. In fact, she actually kind of liked it. Lots of opportunities for slap shots, almost no running, no emphasis on formation. For a moment, Catra lingered on the thought that her favorite part of playing on a team was when she didn’t have to work with anybody else.

Whatever. Maybe if the rest of her teammates weren’t so annoying, it would be easier to care about coordinating with them.

Fortunately, no more wild passes threatened to concuss her, but she did spend the next hour of practice mentally dodging any topic that demanded self-reflection. She would inevitably come to the same conclusion about her inability to consider consequences and make rational decisions. What was the point in torturing herself with a search for some circumstance or memory that would prove her wrong?

When she next glanced up at the field, Catra saw Coach Weaver watching her. After a second, the coach turned her attention back to the field, and her trademark triple whistle brought the team into a circle. Wait, had Coach Weaver been summoning Catra to join the huddle by looking over at her just now? Shit.

She stood up successfully, but she couldn’t walk without putting weight on her foot. She weighed her options. Which would be worse, walking on a sprained ankle or getting verbally annihilated by Coach Weaver for missing a team meeting?

As Catra hobbled over to the circle, she got close enough to hear what the coach was saying.

“...and your senior captain for this year, Scorpia.”

The team started applauding, and Scorpia turned as red as a Horde uniform. She wave awkwardly, accepting the cheers in that obnoxiously humble way of hers.

Catra felt like she was free-falling off a cliff.

***

As the rain picked up, Adora wished that she could install a tiny pair of windshield wipers in front of her eyes. The rain was relentless, and her hair kept falling in front of her face like limp seaweed. At least she hadn’t fallen down yet, which was more than she could say for most of her teammates. Fortunately, most of the people wiping out were being good sports about it. Seahawk, the guy with the fancy mustache, was practically making a game out of it, awarding people style points for adding flair and flavor to their falls. Adora might have been amused by it on another day, but she wasn’t exactly in the mood. A scout was watching them--this was no time for _fun_.

Adora pushed her hair out of her face again as Mermista came down the field with an intense look on her face. She was yards ahead of the girl who was supposed to be defending her, and it didn’t help that the girl kept losing her footing. Mermista seemed entirely unbothered by the rain, and, compared to her teammates, she was playing better than ever. Adora braced herself, anticipating a shot to the bottom-left of the goal. Mermista always went for the bottom-left. Sure enough, Mermista set up for the shot, bringing her stick back for a slap--and just then, an already horizontal Seahawk slammed into her.

Mermista screamed and flew a foot into the air, her running momentum diverted up into flying. She landed on top of Seahawk, knocking all the air out of him.

The ball, just as surprised by the tackle as Mermista, sliced to the right and popped up into the air. Adora hadn’t allowed a single goal yet, and a little rain wasn’t going to change that. She tried to follow, her stick reaching out, but she couldn’t catch any traction on her pivot. As she turned, her back foot slid out of from under her and she tumbled forward with an awful _SQUELCH_. She tasted grass, mud, and sweat--and heard a faint _KLACK_. She wiped as much mud as possible from her eyes and looked up. The ball sat in the wet grass a half inch in front of the goal line, blocked by her stick.

A firm whistle from the sidelines let her know that the most chaotic skirmish of her life was finally over. She tried to pick herself up, but the slick mud made it a challenge. She heard squishy footsteps approaching her and looked up to see Glimmer’s hand reaching down to her.

“Thanks,” Adora said breathlessly. She took Glimmer’s hand and hoisted herself out of the grass, thankful that Bow was there to catch her before she could fall down again.

“That last save was epic!” Glimmer exclaimed, her arm still around Adora’s waist as they walked to the sidelines.

Bow nodded. “Seriously amazing, Adora.”

“Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?” Adora laughed.

Bow’s went starry-eyed and his grip on Adora’s shoulder tightened. “You’re a field hockey hero.”

“Uh...” Adora wasn’t sure how to respond to that one. Before she could think of something, she saw a hooded silhouette walking away from the field towards the parking lot. The silver logo on the jacket made her stomach jump up into her throat. Two elegant towers flanking a hooded skull--it could only be the scout. Leaving. Why was he leaving already?

Coach Angella held a clear umbrella over her clipboard. Anyone else would have a difficult time taking notes with one hand occupied, but she somehow looked as elegant as always. The team captains passed more umbrellas around to the rest of the team. Adora questioned the purpose of shielding themselves from the rain after being oustide for almost two hours already, but she appreciated the gesture. Once everyone was circled up, Coach Angella flashed a big smile.

“I think that’s about enough slipping and sliding for today. You all played admirably through this downpour,” she nodded at Adora, “and our visitor was very impressed. Well done, everyone.”

One of the captains crossed her arms over her blue penny. Adora thought back to her flashcards--Netossa. “He didn’t say anything else?”

“I’m sure she’s getting there, dear,” the other captain said. Spinerella. Man, Adora was really nailing this whole name thing.

Coach Angella went on. “I won’t keep you all lingering in the rain, but I’ll need you two, Mermista, Glimmer, and Adora to stay for a moment.”

The rest of the team left, bidding their friends goodbye with encouraging words. Adora was one again struck with how very different the Rebels were from the Horde.

Bow squeezed Adora’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you guys.”

“Bow, is that rain on your face or are you crying?” Glimmer asked.

“Yes! Both!” He threw his arms around the two of them.

Glimmer struggled against his strong embrace. “Little tight there, Bow.”

“Sorry,” he said, gathering himself and releasing them with a sniffle. “So proud. I’ll see you in the locker room.”

Glimmer nodded and he jogged to catch up with the rest of the team.

Coach Angella smiled and shook her head as she watched him run off. She looked up at Glimmer. “I do like that boy.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom. We all love Bow.”

“Mhm,” Angella said knowingly.

 _“Mom_. I believe you have notes to read?”

“Right.” Coach Angella looked down at her clipboard. “Spinerella, excellent sweeping. Next to Netossa, you two played a nearly unbreakable defense today. Glimmer, you had the only goal against the blue team, leading the white team to a 1-0 victory.”

Netossa muttered to herself, “I thought we didn’t keep track of points during skirmishes.”

“Normally, yes,” Angella said firmly, “but I felt it was prudent under the circumstances.”

Netossa considered this for a moment, then nodded in concession. “Guess that’s why you’re the coach.”

Angella smiled at her, then turned to Mermista. “I’d say you earned yourself several--oh, what did Seahawk call them...style points.”

Mermista groaned. “He was totally sabotaging me.”

“Either way, the scout was quite taken with your ‘scrappiness.’”

“Really? I mean, like, of course he was. Not that I care. Where was he even from again?” Mermista put a hand on her hip, overcompensating and failing to hide it.

Adora stifled a laugh.

“And of course, the woman of the hour,” Angella said.

“I...the who?” Adora looked around the group.

Netossa slapped Adora on the back. “Adora said ‘no goals allowed!’”

Spinerella offered a whoop of support.

“Seriously,” Mermista started, “really glad you’re on our side. You are like a brick wall, girl.”

Coach Angella nodded in accord with everyone’s comments. “The scout wasn’t the only one you impressed, Adora. Truly, the Rebels are lucky to have you.”

Overwhelmed, Adora glanced down at Glimmer. The bright smile on her face could have tricked the moon into setting early. Adora looked around at her new teammates and, for the first time, felt confident that she was in the right place. She smiled at Angella. “Thanks, Coach. I'm happy to be here, too.” It didn’t feel like a strong enough response, so she tacked on a stilted salute. Glimmer giggled next to her.

Angella put her clipboard under her arm, signaling the end of the team meeting. “Alright, you’ve all got showers to take and clothes to wash.”

“Or burn,” Mermista said.

“...Right. Off you go.”

Everyone started to leave, but then Coach Angella called back to them.

“One last thing. We’ll be playing a friendly skirmish against Hordak Academy this Saturday.”

Adora’s mind went blank.

Fortunately, Glimmer piped up. “Don’t we have a game against the Mystacor Magicians?”

“I’m afraid not,” Angella said. “Their coach has decided to take them on a retreat upstate. Coach Weaver mentioned that she’s got a few new players who could use the extra game time, so I doubt we’ll be playing against their first string. Nothing too serious.”

Adora knew better. Coach Weaver was probably baiting them, planning something devious.

Mermista chimed in. “I don’t know. I’d way rather go on a retreat than play against the _evil Horde.”_

“They’re not evil,” Adora blurted out. She tried to collect herself. “I mean, who calls them evil?”

“Everybody,” Glimmer said flatly. “They’re literally famous for receiving the most yellow cards of any team in our conference."

“Coach Weaver always rewarded people for getting yellow cards. I guess I never realized they were bad...”

Glimmer gasped.

Coach Angella shook her head. “She’s always played dirty. When we were at school together, she got herself suspended on more than one occasion.”

“Hang on. You went to Hordak?” Adora asked.

“Goodness, no. Lydia was a student here at Bright Moon. She transferred to Hordak her junior year because our coach wouldn’t let her remain on the team after she received sixteen penalty cards the previous season. Hordak was more than happy to embrace her particular play style.”

Adora let that settle in, her mind reeling.

“Okay, can everyone without super dramatic ties to Hordak go home now?” Mermista broke in.

“Yes. We’re done for the day. I’ll see you all next practice.” And with that, Angella dismissed them.

As Adora walked to her car, she tried to process everything. The Rebels were playing the Horde. Soon. Sooner than she’d thought. And Coach Weaver...was everything she told her players a lie?

Adora’s phone lit up in the side pocket of her backpack as she dropped her stuff into the back seat. She checked it and saw that she had several messages from Catra about practice ending early. There was also one from 4:20 pm that just said “blaze it.” Adora hurried to the driver’s seat and took off towards Hordak.

***

Catra sat on the curb just outside of the gym. If there was one good thing about Hordak’s bizarre, blocky architecture, it was that most of the buildings had awnings built in over the doorways. Perfect for times like this when she was stuck waiting for her ride. At least no one else was around to--

“Catra! What are you doin’ hangin’ around so late?”

Scorpia.

No. No, no, no. Catra did _not_ need this right now.

“I was just picking up my captain’s jersey and all, but you know you can go home, right?” Scorpia said, sitting down next to her.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Hey, how’s that ankle?”

Catra gritted her teeth. “It’s fine, Scorpia.”

“You sure? I really don’t think it’s supposed to be purple--”

“It’s not.” Catra pulled up the tight hem of her pants a little to reveal the source of the color: a purple wrap around her ankle. “I can walk and everything.”

“Oh, that’s great. Just great,” Scorpia said. “Phew. You scared me there.”

Adora’s car pulled into the parking lot--finally.

“Bye, Scorpia.”

Scorpia stood up with Catra, braced to catch her if she wobbled.

To demonstrate her competence in walking, Catra took several steps towards the car and turned around to face Scorpia, one hand on her hip. “See?”

“Watch out for the--”

As she took another step backwards, Catra felt her back foot miss where the ground was supposed to be. She yelped and slipped a little, fortunately landing on her good foot.

“--curb.” Scorpia finished. “Yeah. Alright. You got it.”

Behind Catra, a car door opened. Adora circled the car and came to her side.

“Are you okay?”

Catra huffed. “The next person who asks if I’m _okay_ is getting my fist in their face.”

“Ready to go?” Adora asked.

Catra looked to her, taking in her presence. It was strange to see Adora back at Hordak. On the surface it seemed normal, but it didn’t quite fit. Like trying to force together two pieces from different puzzles that had the same picture on top.

Adora smiled, and Catra forgot that she had been annoyed the moment before. “Yeah. Ready.” She started towards the car, but winced when she stepped down the curb with her other foot.

“I can carry you if you want,” Adora offered.

Catra couldn’t tell if she was being serious. She also couldn’t tell which would be worse, Adora being serious or Adora teasing her.

“What?” Catra said flatly.

“Yeah. I mean, I am, like, super strong. So.” Adora crossed her arms. And then there it was: that horrible cocky smirk.

Catra hissed and started towards the car, hoping that she’d gotten out of Adora’s line of sight before her face flushed bright red. Suddenly, she felt her feet lift off the ground as someone picked her up from behind.

“I gotcha,” Scorpia said, hoisting Catra over her shoulder like a firefighter.

Catra smacked Scorpia’s back. “Put me down, Scorpia. Scorpia. _Put me down_.”

“You can drop her in the front seat,” Adora said.

“No problemo.” As Adora opened the door, Scorpia dumped Catra into the passenger’s seat.

Catra huddled down into the seat, hoping that she could bury the embarrassment somewhere under several layers of mean jokes. She started brainstorming all of the terrible things she could say to Scorpia later in the week, then remembered that Scorpia seemed constantly unfazed by sarcasm.

Adora climbed into the driver’s seat. She started the engine and glanced over at Catra.

“What?” Catra snapped.

“Nothing,” Adora said. “I’m just really glad we’re doing this.”

***

They rode in silence for most of the way to the diner. Adora wasn’t sure how to start a conversation. Every time she tried to think of something, all she could focus on was what she’d learned about Coach Weaver at practice, but Coach Weaver was a banned topic according to her list. Instead, Adora waited for Catra to say something, but Catra seemed stuck in some sort of brooding spiral. Most of the time, Catra was a little more talkative than Adora, but then she had moments like this where she was completely closed off. Not the best start to a make-up dinner. Adora decided to go with the most innocuous question she could think of.

“How was your day?”

“How do you think it was?” Catra grumbled back.

“I dunno. I mean, that’s why I asked.”

Catra stared straight ahead for a moment. Then she looked down at the floor mats and spoke. “Scorpia took your place as captain.”

Adora noticed the blue tone in her voice. “She did? Wow, that’s...unexpected.”

“No shit.”

Adora pulled up to a red light. “I thought you didn’t care about that stuff.”

“Of course I care. Just because I didn’t make a big deal out of it like you did--” Catra cut herself off as soon as Adora put her hand on Catra’s leg.

“Hey. For the record, I think you’d be a great captain.”

Catra scoffed. “I mean, obviously. But you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?”

Catra narrowed her eyes and just looked at her for a moment. She chewed on her bottom lip, apparently deciding if she believed Adora or not.

 _HOOOONK._ The driver behind them rudely alerted Adora that the light had changed to green.

“Calm down!” Adora shouted back despite the windows being closed. “I’m going, I’m going.”

For the rest of the drive, Catra caught Adora up on which teachers had recently gotten terrible haircuts and which were making bold choices with their wardrobes. It was superficial and petty and Adora loved every second of it. Listening to Catra pick apart her history teacher’s choice to wear an orange polo shirt made Adora laugh for a solid five minutes. Catra also admitted that she’d been caught texting during math class, which led to her phone being rudely confiscated in the middle of their conversation and her learning a very amusing secret about Mr. Henshaw’s choice in styling products.

Eventually, they pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Adora got out first and ran around to the other side to help Catra get out. The glare she received in return wasn’t exactly encouraging.

“I’ve got it,” Catra insisted.

“Just let me help you,” Adora countered. She extended a hand and half expected to have it slapped away, but Catra conceded and let Adora support some of her weight as she exited the vehicle. Adora put one arm around Catra’s waist and helped her across the parking lot. As soon as they reached the curb, Catra pulled her own arm off of Adora’s shoulders and mumbled a barely intelligible, “Thanks.” Adora just smiled back.

When they went inside, Adora recognized the man behind the counter. He’d been her waiter the last time she’d come to the diner the morning after the Hordak lockdown. The man noticed Adora and squinted at her. His eyes went wide with recognition, and Adora cringed. As if this dinner needed any more complications.

They sat down in a corner booth in the back. When they were little, Adora and Catra had discovered that the booth was built in such a way that if one of them whispered something into one end of the backrest, the other could hear it all the way around the booth. According to their parents it was some kind of physics phenomenon, but Adora and Catra were pretty sure it was magic.

The waiter came over to their table and dropped off two menus without a word.

Catra must have noticed Adora’s expression. “What was that about?” She asked as she picked up a menu.

“Don’t worry about it,” Adora said unconvincingly. “Nothing. I think he just doesn’t like me.”

“Wow. It took you exactly four seconds to start acting weird. I thought this was supposed to be a normal dinner.” Catra didn’t even look up from the page in front of her.

Adora felt something flare up in her chest. “He was here last time I was, which, if you’ll recall, was when you stood me up.”

Catra sank down into the booth a little and hid her face behind the menu. Suddenly, Adora regretted bringing it up. The mild outburst certainly hadn’t made _her_ feel any better.

“What are you getting?” Catra asked.

Adora glanced over the page, barely taking in any of the words in front of her. Food wasn’t exactly her priority this evening. “Um...”

The bell above the diner door rang, and Adora glanced over instinctively. Nobody she knew. Why would it be? Plenty of people came to this diner.

The waiter returned with his notepad out. “You again,” he said disdainfully to Adora.

Catra looked up at him wearing a mischievous expression. She’d made the same face right before cannonballing into the pool at Adora’s ninth birthday party.

“What’s your name?” She asked, cocking her head innocently.

The waiter pointed to his name tag: JOSH.

“Josh. You know, I actually got into a fight with a kid named Josh in kindergarten. He said the monster mask I wore for Halloween looked funny and pushed me, so I punched him in the face.” She stared right at the waiter as she finished her sentence.

Adora snorted.

Catra continued, lounging across her side of the booth. “Pretty sure I broke his nose, but he never came back. Anyway, I’ll have the hot chocolate pancakes. No butter on top, I hate that. And bacon on the side. Chocolate milkshake.”

Josh the waiter’s expression could only be described as spooked. He cleared his throat and turned to Adora. “And, um...and for you?”

“Same,” Adora said. “Keep the butter. Extra bacon. Strawberry shake.”

“Got it. It’ll be up in ten minutes,” Josh said. He took the menus and fled.

As soon as he left, Adora let out the laugh she’d been holding in. “Poor Josh.”

“He was being an asshole to you.” Catra said it so plainly, as if it was a good enough reason to do anything. Adora tried to ignore the way her stomach fluttered at the concept.

“Did you really punch someone in the face in kindergarten?”

“I don’t know,” Catra said. “Probably,” she snickered.

“And yet you let me fight those guys in the sandbox when we met,” Adora replied. “I got a face full of wet sand for sticking up for you.”

Catra shrugged. “It was nice having someone on my side.”

Adora could swear she felt her heart skip.

Their food came out quickly, beating Josh’s ten minute claim. Catra stuffed an entire pancake in her mouth as soon as the plate landed in front of her, not even bothering to put syrup on it first. Once she swallowed that first pancake, the broody haze seemed to lift a little. Out of habit, Adora pushed her milkshake across the table and went to try Catra’s. They’d first formed the habit about a year ago when they’d decided to try every one of the thirty milkshakes flavors on the menu. Some were good, like banana peanut butter, and some were absolutely awful. She shuddered at the memory of the kettlecorn shake, which was unreasonably sweet and included real bits of sad, soggy popcorn. The big surprise was chocolate pistachio, which Adora expected to hate but actually liked quite a bit.

Catra accepted the milkshake swap without question. Adora dipped a piece of bacon into the chocolate one and, without hesitating, ate it.

“Oh, gross,” Catra said.

“What? People do it with fries. I figured it would be good with bacon, too.”

“Was it?”

“No, it was definitely gross. But now I know.”

“Very scientific,” Catra joked. “I thought I was the one who did weird, impulsive stuff.”

Adora crunched the rest of her piece of bacon. “Says who?”

“My teachers, Coach Weaver, everyone.”

Adora wasn’t sure she believed that. Sure, Catra dragged her into ridiculous schemes now and then, but she was smart. She didn't just _do_ ludicrous things--she masterminded them. And she always was good at getting what she wanted.

“Nah,” Adora said. “Give yourself some credit.”

“Thanks,” Catra said hoarsely.

“Catra?” Adora looked up from her pancakes and saw a strange look on her best friend's face. Was she...about to cry?

“I’ll be right back,” Catra said. With that, she dashed from the booth before Adora could protest and disappeared into the bathroom.

Adora couldn’t help but feel a little pang of disappointment as she watched Catra run off. She knew that Catra didn’t like to get emotional in front of people, but she thought they were at least past that with each other. It just reminded her that things were very much not normal between them.

The little bell above the door jingled again. This time, Adora was too lost in thought to pay any attention to it until--

“Adora!” A cracking voice called out from the other side of the diner. Bow.

In seconds, he was at her side, followed closely by Glimmer. Glimmer was clearly wearing Bow’s oversized white and blue warmup top. He wore the matching pants.

“Want some company?” Glimmer asked her.

“I, um...I’m actually here with someone,” Adora said. Why did she feel like she was admitting to something that should be a secret? It wasn’t like she was on a date or anything.

“Oh, cool,” Bow said, completely unfazed. “Who?”

Right then, Catra came out of the bathroom, her eyes shining. Adora watched her freeze in place, no doubt registering the Bright Moon colors and logos hovering around Adora. Then Catra did what she did best--and ran out of the diner.

“One sec,” Adora said as she pushed through Bow and Glimmer. She followed Catra into the parking lot, guiltily glad that Catra couldn’t exactly sprint away on her bad ankle.

“Please don't leave,” Adora called out.

"Just go hang out with your amazing Bright Moon friends, Adora," Catra spat. 

"Catra, wait." 

At least she stopped. That was something. Adora placed a hand on her shoulder, but Catra shrugged it off. She gently prodded Catra to turn around.

Angry tears streamed down Catra’s face, and Adora immediately felt her throat tighten at the sight of her best friend crying. In the back of her mind, she noted that she’d grown a bit. She was about an inch taller than Catra now. 

Adora didn’t know what to say, so she did the only thing she could think of and threw her arms around Catra. Tears soaked into her shoulder where Catra buried her face in Adora’s shoulder. After a few seconds, Catra reciprocated the embrace and clung to Adora’s waist tightly. They stayed there, wrapped up in each other, for a long moment. Until Catra pulled away. She furiously tried to banish her tears with her sleeves, but Adora took her hand and stopped her.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Catra started, gently brushing at her eyes. “Just this stupid captain thing. It’s like I can’t do anything right.”

Adora didn’t say anything, half to encourage Catra to keep talking and half because she was afraid she would start crying herself if she spoke.

Catra took in a shaky breath. “When you left, it felt like everything changed, but then nothing really did. Everything’s still terrible. Except now you’re not even around to--” her voice broke.

“I’m still here, Catra.” Adora pleaded with her, and yet the space between them felt like an ocean.

“Why?” Catra screamed. "You've got new friends and a perfect school and a coach that probably thinks you fell out of the sky or something. So why? Why are you--"

“Because I love you!”

Catra blinked. Then blinked again. And a few more times.

Adora could take it back. She could try and cover it up, elaborate that she meant it very much in the friend way. But that wouldn’t be true, and she couldn’t lie to Catra. So she let it echo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly late posting this, but WORTH IT. hope u enjoyed this big boi of a chapter <3
> 
> *disclaimer: i do not advocate being rude to waiters EVER but lbr catra's moral code has some flexibility when it comes to protecting adora ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short post because these two have some complicated fkn emotional issues and also i somehow ended up taking care of two houses and a dog this week??? idk it's a great dog tho so i'm not mad about it. 
> 
> however, i have a few days off in a row and i'll be posting more in the next couple days! 
> 
> in other exciting news, GUESS WHO GOT A REAL LIFE EDITING JOB?! this comma-lovin' bitch right here :D :D :D

For the first time in recorded history, Catra had nothing clever to say. She reached for a sarcastic comment, but it felt like her endless supply of snark had evaporated in a single second. She was completely disarmed. What did Adora mean, exactly? They were best friends; of course they loved each other. They usually showed it by teasing each other relentlessly instead of screaming about it in parking lots, though.

She’d been dealing with some very confusing feelings towards Adora for a while now. Alright, she wasn't exactly _dealing_ with them, but she was at least acknowledging their general existence. What else was she supposed to do? Make a move on her best friend whom she could feel slipping further away every second?

And then this. Adora’s words lit a single spark in her chest, and now Catra was short-circuiting. She knew she only had one chance to respond correctly. If she wasn’t careful, that spark would ignite a whole wildfire, explode into something uncontrollable, destroy everything. Forever. Letting it burn was too dangerous. This wasn’t the time to be reckless--and yet she could feel the flames swirling in her chest, threatening to burst out.

She stood there paralyzed in the parking lot, willing herself to decide faster. But each time she reached a decision, doubt pulled her back in the other direction. _You can’t say that. Too cold. Too mean. But that’s how you want her to see you, isn’t it? All ice and claws. You know she doesn’t mean it like that. How could she? Wishful thinking at best. Pure delusion at worst. Think. Think. You’re taking too long--she’s going to leave. Again. Soon._

A gentle touch against Catra's palm pulled her out of her head. She could feel the dried up tears cracking on her cheeks, taste the salt at the corner of her lips. And Adora was suddenly right in front of her.

“Catra?” Adora asked, the confusion on her face deepening into concern.

Who knew the lightest brush of fingertips could be so, so painful?

Of the many voices arguing in Catra’s mind, one grew louder and louder the closer Adora got. _Because I love you._ She wanted it to stop--needed it to stop so she could think straight. 

“I’m pretty sure you heard me, because I definitely shouted that super loud,” Adora said quickly.

Catra looked around and noticed several people lingering near their cars, watching. By the diner door, Adora’s Bright Moon friends unconvincingly pretended that they weren’t stealing glances every few seconds. Panic rose in Catra’s throat. Didn’t those people have better things to do than watch her tank a ten-year friendship?

“I meant it, though,” Adora went on. “What I said.”

With every one of Adora’s words, Catra could feel herself stacking another brick between them. The fire in her chest died slowly, suffocating as she walled it in, reduced it to ash. Behind that wall, she could finally steady herself. Arm herself.

“Well, yeah,” Catra scoffed. “Obviously.”

***

“What?” Adora hoped her voice didn’t sound as squeaky out loud as it did in her head.

“Wow, you are _so_ needy sometimes.” Catra sighed. “Fine. Love you too, Adora.” She patted Adora’s hand. “And thanks for dinner. Now can you drop me off? I have homework that needs ignoring.” She headed for the car.

Adora stood stunned for a moment. Then, like a puppy on a leash, she followed.

Once the heat in the car was on, Adora risked a glance over at the passenger’s side. Catra picked at the seat, her expression inscrutable. She just looked really, really focused on that peeling piece of leather. Why was it so impossible to tell what she was thinking?

Adora drove in silence. She slowly realized that her bold declaration might have been slightly--or entirely--misunderstood. She wasn’t sure how to clarify. Of course, she could have said _I’m **in** love with you_, but that felt far too real. Too deep. That was a dive Adora wouldn’t have been able to surface from.

There was always the possibility that Catra did understand. Maybe she knew exactly what Adora meant--and she didn’t feel the same way. Catra was too smart and knew Adora too well for the confession to go over her head completely. Plus, Adora wasn’t exactly the master of subtlety. Maybe Catra knew all that, and maybe this was her way of trying to spare what was left of Adora’s dignity. That...that must have been it.

Adora kicked herself. Could she have picked a worse time? Or a less romantic place? The past few weeks had been an endless storm of bad timing. After all that, now Catra was stressed, injured, and sleep deprived. Considering everything, she was handling this remarkably well.

At least there was a faint silver lining to it all: Catra seemed a little less upset than she’d been earlier. Adora wasn’t sure what exactly had happened in the parking lot, but she wasn’t about to pry just when Catra was starting to act like herself again, teasing and cracking jokes, just like she normally did. Normal--that’s what this dinner was supposed to be. Maybe now they could actually go back to the way things were before Bright Moon.

...Did Adora even want that anymore?

As they pulled up in front of Catra’s house, Adora decided to break the unsettling quiet.

“Thanks,” Adora started, the word normal echoing so loudly in her mind that she could barely hear herself think. “This was a good idea.”

“Yeah,” Catra agreed.

“Do you need help getting to the door?”

“Do I look like a helpless princess or something?”

“Of course not,” Adora protested. “I was just offering.”

Catra kept scratching at that same spot on her seat. “Relax. I was just kidding.”

Neither said anything for what felt like an entire minute.

Adora could say it. Repeat what she’d said in the parking lot. Act on it. But something was stopping her, and it wasn’t the obstructive console between the seats. It was the way Catra wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t smile despite supposedly joking around. If the past week was the start of storm, this was the unsettling moment of calm in the middle.

Eventually, Catra reached into the backseat and grabbed her bag. As she got out of the car, Adora rolled down the passenger’s side window, secretly hoping that she might get to hear that voice one more time. A brisk breeze drifted in through the open window, but Adora barely noticed.

“Bye, Adora,” Catra called back over her shoulder.

Nothing compelled Adora to leave right away, so she stalled in front of the house. She waited to make sure Catra got inside okay. Not that there were any particularly hazardous obstacles between the end of the driveway and her front door, but her ankle could be trouble. Adora was just being a good friend.

The realization hit her hard. They were friends again. So why did everything feel so damn wrong?

Unwilling to pursue that train of thought any further for fear of running it straight off the tracks, Adora opted to distract herself with her phone. She had a few messages from people asking about homework, practice...and one from a number she didn't know.

 **(Unknown) (6:46 pm)** \- _Hey, so Glimmer and I thought it was stupid that the horde got to have a team party or whatever, so I’m having one at my lake house on Friday. Don’t bring anybody. But like, bring snacks for sure._

Adora felt confident saving the number under “Mermista.”

A team party was the furthest thing from Adora’s mind right now, but at least it gave her something to look forward to. Team bonding was always good, though Adora felt that their time could be better used preparing for their game against Mystacor. No, wait. They weren’t playing Mystacor anymore.

Then Adora remembered: the skirmish against Hordak. She smacked her head against the steering wheel, accidentally sounding the horn briefly before jolting upright in her seat.

Great. Just great.

As soon as she climbed in bed that night, she started to brainstorm excuses to get out of the game. She could pretend to be sick. Or wrap up her ankle and say she fell down the stairs. Maybe a freak thunderstorm would hit and they’d have to cancel. Or... Or maybe...

Adora fell asleep surprisingly fast, thrilled that her exhaustion was outplaying stress for once.

Before school on Tuesday, she made sure to corroborate Mermista’s story with Glimmer by the lockers.

“Well, the whole lake house thing was Mermista’s idea,” Glimmer explained. “I just thought some light team bonding might be nice.”

Adora nodded along.

“It’s a long weekend, so we might as well use it for something fun and productive.” Glimmer said, shutting her locker.

“Wait, it’s a long weekend?” Adora asked, starting towards their history classroom.

“You didn’t know?” Glimmer replied. “It’s the anniversary of the day Bright Moon was founded.”

“And you celebrate the birth of your school by having no school?”

Glimmer thought to herself for a moment. “Hm. When you put it like that, it does sound a little weird.”

“Actually, I think it’s a great idea.”

“Really?”

“Who doesn’t love a day off at the beach, right?”

Glimmer smiled up at Adora. Then she gasped. “What kind of cake do you like?”

“Uh...yes.” Adora answered.

"Fair. But if you had to pick?"

“Why?”

A determined glint appeared in Glimmer’s eye. “We are _so_ baking Bright Moon a birthday cake.”

Adora felt a grin spread across her face involuntarily. “You know, I think I really like it here.”

“I told you you would.”

By the time they arrived at their classroom, Adora felt a little less nervous about the upcoming weekend. She was going to have to face off with the Horde--and Catra--but at least she wouldn’t have to do it alone.


	11. Chapter 11

Focus was Adora’s greatest strength. Being able to neatly slot information and stress (and feelings) into boxes was the reason she was so good at standardized tests. Sure, she was always freaking out just a little bit right below the surface whenever there was a multiple choice sheet in front of her, but nobody would ever be able to tell. Expert-level compartmentalizing was how she’d gotten through the transition to Bright Moon. Maybe it wasn’t entirely healthy to force herself to shut off extreme emotions during the day, but at least it stopped her from having a meltdown every time she was late to a class. Distractions didn’t faze Adora--during tests, on the field, in classrooms. All she had to do was flip that mental switch.

Blocking out the entire incident with Catra in the parking lot at Noelle’s was going swimmingly. Adora got through the first half of her Tuesday without checking her phone or replaying the scene in her head. As she walked to the lunchroom, a little nagging sensation scratched at the back of her mind, but she willfully ignored it. She could worry about whatever that was later, after she’d dealt her chemistry quiz. It wasn’t technically on the schedule, but the teacher apparently kicked off every week with a “graded in-class worksheet” to encourage everyone to stay on top of weekend readings. They hadn’t had class that Monday, and Adora had taken advantage of the extra day to get ahead on readings and study for the quiz. She had already memorized the first thirty elements on the periodic table, so a review of the states of matter would be a breeze.

Adora dropped her bag off at the little corner table where she usually sat. Glimmer’s purple backpack and Bow’s clear plastic one were already there, holding seats, and Adora raced to the line to catch up.

The lunch menu at Bright Moon was more predictable than the one at Hordak--and that was definitely a good thing. There were enough sandwich and salad stations to provide some variety, and the hot food menu rotated every day of the week. At Hordak, tacos might be followed by three days of the same pasta. Adora shuddered at the memory of cold, rubbery mostaccioli noodles. The best part of the Bright Moon lunchroom was that she could make her own sandwich and put as much extra meat in it as she wanted. No skimping.

By the time she returned to the table, Bow and Glimmer were already seated and digging into their respective bowls of chili. Bow, mouth full of oyster crackers, waved Adora over.

“Hey! Whoa. Quite a sandwich you’ve got there,” he said.

Adora sat next to Glimmer. “Sandwiches are serious business.”

“That they are,” Bow agreed. He slid a pack of crackers across the table to her.

“Speaking of serious business,” Glimmer started, “I would like to formally invite you both to be my sous chefs this Thursday.”

Bow put his hand over his heart. “I would be honored.” He bowed as deeply as he could while sitting.

Adora took a bite of her sandwich. “Is this for the cake thing?”

“Yes,” Glimmer said. “I’ve polled the whole team, and I’ve decided to go with a chocolate and vanilla marble cake.”

“Aw, man,” Bow commented. “I was really pulling for red velvet.”

“We can make cupcakes,” Glimmer offered.

Bow’s eyes lit up.

Adora tore open the little packet of crackers. “The more cake the better,” she said.

As she dumped the crackers out onto her plate, she felt two pairs of eyes linger on her. When she looked up, both Bow and Glimmer looked away abruptly.

“Uh, so...any update on the dance, Glimmer?” Adora asked, hoping she'd just imagined the strangeness. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me. The committee is a disaster! We have two weeks until homecoming and they still can’t agree on a theme.”

“Technically, it’s two weeks from Saturday,” Bow corrected. “So almost three weeks.”

Glimmer groaned. “Great. More time for everyone to argue.”

“Do they have anything in mind so far?” Bow asked. 

“Cowboys,” Glimmer said flatly.

He narrowed his eyes. “Cowboys?” 

“Yes, Bow. Cowboys.”

“That’s not...”

“Not really a theme? That’s what I keep saying, but no one wants to listen,” Glimmer sulked. “Dances are for pretty suits and cool dresses. I refuse to wear boots and blue jeans to homecoming!” She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair.

“Dancing in a dress is hard enough,” Adora agreed.

Another pause. And then there it was again. That feeling that they were staring at her.

“Uh, guys?” Adora looked between them, both of them hurriedly pretending to move food around in their bowls. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Glimmer said quickly. “Well, we--” Bow said at the same time.

Glimmer cut him off with a look, then turned to Adora. “We're worried, that's all.”

“About homecoming?” Adora asked.

“About you,” Bow jumped in. “What happened yesterday?”

Adora thought for a moment. She wasn’t sure what they... _oh_. The diner.

Glimmer took Adora’s hand. “We’re a little concerned.”

Bow frowned (for, Adora guessed, the first time in his life).

Adora glanced between them. “I’m fine,” she shrugged. “It’s not really bothering me.” She reached for her sandwich, but Glimmer squeezed her hand again.

“I know it’s not really our business, but if you want to talk about that girl...” Glimmer trailed off and gazed up at Adora with a nervous expression.

Adora couldn’t stand the look on Glimmer’s face. She pulled her hand away. “Not really,” she said, hoping that she didn’t sound quite as defensive as she felt.

Bow opened a new pack of oyster crackers and poured them onto Glimmer’s plate. “How did you two meet?”

“Who, me and Catra? It feels like we’ve known each other forever,” Adora said. “I think we were five.”

“Whoa, that’s almost as long as I’ve known Glimmer,” Bow replied. “And you guys are...or were...” He raised his hands and interlocked his fingers.

Adora squinted at him, not quite sure what the gesture meant.

Glimmer broke in, her tone aggressively casual. “You’re together?” She sounded like she could be discussing the weather while walking across a bed of hot coals.

“I mean, we hang out all the time. Or at least we used to, until I transferred,” Adora explained. A moment later, her eyes went wide. “We’re not together.”

Bow sighed in relief. “Good. I thought we crashed your date or something.”

“It wasn’t a date!” Adora said much more loudly than she intended.

“It kinda looked like one,” Bow retorted.

Adora turned to Glimmer for backup.

Instead Glimmer held up her thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. “Just a little bit.”

Adora scoffed. “I--it was not. _Clearly_. I mean, it’s not like we _said_ it wasn’t, but I--It definitely--”

“Please don’t hurt yourself,” Glimmer said. She continued, softer. “We also heard what you said in the parking lot.”

In just a few seconds, Adora felt her entire mental filing cabinet fall apart. It was like someone had secretly removed all of screws and bolts, and now everything she was trying to keep locked up spilled out at once. She felt her cheeks heat up, and she hoped that aggressively blinking would be enough to keep the frustrated tears from breaking through.

“Adora?” Bow asked, worry evident in his crackling voice.

She hastily reached for a napkin and wiped at her eyes. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve got really bad allergies. Grass and stuff.”

Glimmer placed a calming hand on Adora’s shoulder. “All the grass on campus is fake,” she said gently.

“Fall allergies, I guess. I don’t know,” Adora said.

“As in you’re allergic to _falling_ for your friend,” Bow said with far too much gravitas for wordplay.

“Not the time, Bow,” Glimmer hissed.

Adora let out a laugh. “I thought I was the pun captain here.”

“Usually you are, and we love you for it. But I’m happy to step up as First Mate,” Bow said. He got up and circled the table so that he could put an arm around her. “What I’m saying is, whatever happened with this girl, we’re here for you.”

“Of course,” Glimmer asserted. She hugged Adora from the other side.

“Thanks, guys.” Adora managed to wipe her eyes clear enough to see other people in the cafeteria glancing in their direction, most of them unfamiliar faces. “People are kind of...staring.”

After another moment, they released the embraces and Bow returned to his seat.

Adora felt a light touch on the shoulder where he’d been a minute before and looked up to see Perfuma, hands clutched together over her chest.

“Are you okay?” Perfuma asked.

Adora felt like crying all over again. She nodded, glad that her response could be honest. “Yeah. Rough day.”

Perfuma returned the nod, smiled at Bow, and floated off.

“See? The Rebels have your back,” Bow reinforced with a thumbs up.

“It sounds like you need a distraction,” Glimmer said. “Good thing we have some serious baking plans this week, plus the team party. You’ll be over her in no time.”

Adora felt her chest tighten--that didn’t feel right. It wasn’t like she’d been turned down while asking someone to a dance. This was _Catra_. Her best friend, the person she’d do anything for. How was she supposed to just get over it?

For the rest of the day, Adora found it harder and harder to concentrate.

Fortunately, the chemistry quiz was mostly definitions and common sense. She panicked for a moment when she got to the last question: by what process does a gas become a solid? Apparently her mental filing cabinet containing vital school information remained mostly intact, and she was able to pull “deposition” from the back of one of the drawers.

After a shorter-than-usual field hockey practice, a snack that could be more accurately qualified as a small meal, and half an hour of staring at the same page of her English reading, Adora was ready to give up on homework. She was already ahead, and she didn’t technically have to finish her reading until Thursday. Sure, she’d have to get through fifty pages of Hamlet the next night, but she already knew what it was about. She could suffer through Shakespearean soliloquies another time.

What could she do to keep busy? It was barely 7:00. She wouldn’t be tired for hours. Cook dinner? No, she’d just eaten. Plus, her parents were out celebrating their anniversary somewhere fancy, so they wouldn’t need food. Research cake decorating techniques? Glimmer probably wasn’t interested in covering the team party cake in fondant, but still. It could be fun. Or mind-numbing. Video games? Technically not allowed during the week... Watch a movie, maybe?

Adora felt the floor start to vibrate just slightly. She heard the garage door going up--her parents must have gotten home early. Perfect. She could make them tell her all about their dinner.

She bounced down the stairs and took a hard turn into the kitchen. Just as she was about to ask about the lobster at the restaurant, she saw a familiar mane of brown hair peeking out from behind the refrigerator door.

“Catra?”

The intruder turned around with an entire block of cheese in hand. “Hey, Adora. Since when do you lock the front door?” Catra closed the fridge door with her hip and hopped up to sit on the counter.

Adora couldn’t help but get annoyed at how smooth the move was. She shook her head, refusing to get distracted by it. “Did you break into my house just to steal my cheese?”

“What’s it look like?” Catra answered, slicing a piece off of the block. She took two crackers from a plate and sandwiched it all together, then popped it into her mouth. “It’s like we never have real food at my house.”

“Well, there’s nothing here either. Besides that. My parents are out for their anniversary.”

Catra paused, then made another little sandwich. “I’ll be sure to leave a card,” she said. Adora couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not, and she figured it wasn’t worth asking.

Adora stepped up to her. Seated on the countertop, Catra's eyeline was a few inches higher up than usual, but Adora stared her down nonetheless. Catra barely flinched when she saw Adora’s serious expression, and even then she simply brushed it off with a scoff and offered up the plate of cheese and crackers. “Did you want some?”

“How did you get in here?”

“I know the garage code. Duh,” Catra explained.

“Well, you can’t just--” Adora stopped talking when Catra leaned a little closer, eyes narrow, and held her gaze for just a little too long. Catra tilted her head to the side, and Adora forgot that time existed for a second. What was she doing? Did Adora have something on her face? If she didn’t come up with something to say fast she might just--

“Let’s watch a movie,” Adora blurted out.

“Weirdo,” was all Catra said before sliding off the counter and heading to the living room with her plate.

Frozen in the kitchen, Adora wondered if she was imagining this. Two weeks ago, she would have expected Catra to show up uninvited and steal her food, but that truly felt like a lifetime ago. Everything was different now. Her first thought was to text Glimmer about everything, but then she remembered Glimmer’s advice. Space. Not something Adora was exactly following through with. Maybe Bow would be able to help.

Adora followed Catra into the living room and plopped down on the couch. Out of pure muscle memory, she stretched her legs out over Catra’s, but then stiffened. She pulled them back and curled up onto her own cushion.

“Sorry,” Adora said.

“It’s fine,” Catra replied. “If you want to--”

“You want to pick something?” Adora cut her off.

Catra scrunched up her face in a frown. She opened her mouth, but Adora pre-empted any rebuttal by grabbing the remote.

“Too slow,” Adora teased half-heartedly.

She clicked on the TV, scrolled through the channels a few times, and landed on something. She didn’t really care what. Catra could change the channel if she really wanted to.

Adora started typing a single, simple message to Bow.

 **Adora (7:21 pm)** \- _HELP_

 **Bow (7:21 pm)** \- _?!?!??!!?!?!_

 **Adora (7:21 pm)** \- _Okay wait that sounded bad. I’m fine, but HELP_

 **Bow (7:21 pm)** \- _What’s up? Chem quiz gotcha down?_

 **Adora (7:22 pm)** - _No I definitely aced that_

 **Adora (7:22 pm)** \- _But remember that person I was talking about_

 **Bow (7:22 pm)** \- _What person_

 **Bow (7:22 pm)** \- _WAIT THE GIRL???_

Adora sighed to herself and hoped that Catra didn’t hear it.

 **Adora (7:22 pm)** \- _Yes, “the girl”_

The next second, Adora’s phone lit up with a very crowded selfie of her, Bow and Glimmer that Bow had insisted on making his contact photo.

Adora froze, glaring at the screen.

“What the hell did _you_ just google?” Catra joked.

“Be right back,” Adora said, bolting out of the room. Just to be safe, she dashed up the stairs. This was not a conversation she could risk Catra overhearing.

She answered Bow’s call once she was safely in her room with the door closed.

_“Adora!”_

“Shh,” Adora said.

 _“Adora!”_ Bow whispered back. _“Wait, why do I have to be quiet?”_

“She’s at my house,” Adora explained.

 _“She is?!”_ Bow whisper-yelled. _“Uh, you know she can’t hear me, right?”_

Adora thought about that, then slowly realized he was very much correct. “Right,” she whispered back. “You can talk normally.”

_“Phew. So what’s going on?”_

“I came downstairs and there she was, eating my cheese.”

_“Sounds romantic.”_

“Bow,” Adora reprimanded. “What do I do?”

He paused. _“Remember what Glimmer said about space?”_

Adora sat on the edge of her bed. “I can’t just kick her out.”

 _“It is your house,”_ Bow countered. _“But...it kinda sounds like you guys just need to talk.”_

“I tried that!” Adora said as loudly as she dared risk. “You saw what happened at the diner.”

_“Did you try being super honest with each other?”_

“I don’t know how much more honest I can be,” Adora said.

_“Listen, I’m at Perfuma’s, but promise you'll try something for me. If you want to talk to her about all this, don’t do it halfway. Don’t do it when you’re both upset, and definitely don’t do it in a parking lot. No ‘is it a date or not’ stuff, you know?”_

Adora absorbed the advice. “That actually makes a lot of sense. Thanks, Bow.”

_“Good luck.”_

Easy enough. Set an intention and follow through, just like taking a penalty shot. Okay, maybe not the best comparison, but it was the same idea.

Adora started down the hall, sure that she could do this. No pretenses. Just honesty. Clarity.

With every step she took down the stairs, her resolve threatened to crumble. She could feel her confidence sublimating like dry ice under normal atmospheric conditions. Why was she thinking about chemistry at a time like this?

Once she returned to the living room, she saw Catra curled into herself on the opposite corner of the couch. She rested her cheek on her hand, her gold-tinged eye catching the sunset through the window and sparkling like a flawless gemstone.

 **Adora (7:28 pm)** \- _Can’t do it_

 **Bow (7:28 pm)** \- _?!?!?!!!?!?!?_

Adora sat down on the couch as far from Catra as she could.

***

Catra was barely paying attention to the stupid reality show on TV, but it was enough to know that Adora was officially never allowed to pick the channel ever again. Hate-watching shows was definitely one of Catra’s favorite pastimes, but this wasn’t even good enough to hate. She would occasionally shout insults at the screen out of habit, but her heart wasn’t in it. She was much more focused on dissecting Adora’s bizarre response to her showing up. Why was she acting like Catra was an actual burglar? To make things worse, Catra ran out of crackers with several pieces of cheese still left.

When finally returned from her sudden adventure upstairs, Catra got up to get another box of crackers from the pantry. She lingered there for a moment, watching Adora stare at her phone. She realized something very troubling: Adora hadn’t smiled _once_ the entire evening. Something was definitely, definitely wrong. She returned to the living room, snatched the remote from the table next to Adora, and shut off the TV.

Adora didn’t notice.

“Hey, Miss Popular,” Catra said, putting a hand on her hip. “You got a sec?”

“Hm?” Adora looked up. “Hey, you turned the show off.”

“I’ll put it back on if you can tell me what we were watching.”

Adora didn't say anything.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Me?” Adora asked, that dissonant note of defensiveness seeping in.

“Yeah, you, dummy. Why are you being weird? I thought you wanted this.”

Adora sat up against the arm rest and dropped her phone on the table behind her. _“I’m_ being weird?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Catra asked, crossing her arms.

They never used to fight, but now Catra almost expected it. She wanted Adora to scratch back, but instead Adora stopped and took a deep breath.

“Sit down?” The way Adora said it, she was more asking, pleading, than insisting.

Catra obliged, sinking onto the couch and facing her.

“I owe you an explanation,” Adora started. “What I said yesterday...it wasn’t fair.”

Catra’s stomach sank.

Good, this was good. Now she knew that she was right to wonder if Adora’s confession was purely platonic. She was right not to do anything impulsive. Asking the wrong questions could have been a disaster. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to respond.

Adora went on. “I...” She paused and swallowed audibly. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she scrutinized Catra. “Wait, what do you mean, you thought I wanted this?”

“Wasn’t this whole ‘act normal’ thing your idea?”

“That’s why you broke into my house?”

“I mean, you could stop saying it like that, but yeah.” Catra dropped one leg over the side of the couch. “I used to come over here all the time. You never got mad about it.” She dropped her gaze, unable to make eye contact. Why did that hurt so much to say? Catra felt the couch cushions shift. She glanced up by instinct and saw Adora sliding up next to her.

“I’m not mad, Catra.”

“Sure seemed like it,” Catra replied. She really, really hoped that she wouldn’t start crying. That would make this so much worse.

This time, Adora’s perfect gray eyes refused to let Catra look away. “I would tell you if I was angry at you. Which, to be fair, I am, but only because you ate literally all of the crackers I was going to take to our team party on Friday."

Catra wanted nothing more than to tackle Adora across the couch in an embrace, but she resisted. Something still hung in the air, and Adora’s breathing was a little too fast.

“Are you okay?” Catra asked.

Adora didn’t respond right away. She was still looking at Catra--through her? Into her? Could she see what Catra was feeling, all those burning emotions hiding just under her skin?

“No,” Adora said, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m not. Everything has been so messed up, and then yesterday...”

“Yeah,” was all Catra could muster.

Adora took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. You were upset and I just wanted you to stop crying because I seriously hate it when you cry. Not that you shouldn’t express your feelings, I just...I guess what I mean is I’m sorry.”

Catra hated this. She absolutely hated it. They were finally talking again--but about this? Catra didn’t need it drilled into her head. She got the point.

But Adora kept going. “And then you just walked away, which, I get it, you were trying to save the last scrap of dignity I had after screaming in a parking lot, but I still--” She stopped to breathe again. “And then you came over here today and now I’m just really confused.”

Now Catra was lost. She fell back on the one refrain she had, the crutch that let her put herself through all of this. “I thought you wanted things to be normal.”

Adora shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah, well. Dramatically telling your best friend you’re in love with her kind of undermines that whole concept.”

Hang on, what?

“But like I said, I get what you were trying to do by coming over.”

Catra blinked. _What?_

“It’s really nice of you, actually. Not the breaking in part, that wasn’t nice. But the whole trying to be normal thing.” Adora reached for Catra’s hand but pulled back before their fingers could touch. “You’re my best friend first, and I don't want to lose that. So don’t worry, I’m not gonna try to kiss you or anything.” Adora laughed nervously.

It took a moment for Catra’s brain to catch up. She combed over each word from the past minute several times, making sure that she wasn’t misinterpreting anything. There wasn’t any ambiguity this time around. The part of Catra that was determined to self-sabotage searched for it, a way out, but she forced that little voice of doubt to shut up and sit still. 

Catra could only stare. Sitting barely a foot in front of her was her best friend, fearlessly vulnerable and breathtakingly beautiful in this moment, her hair glowing like a golden halo in the the setting sun’s light. Everything about her radiated strength, acceptance...love.

“Hey, Adora?” Catra locked onto Adora’s eyes.

“Yeah?” There was something in her voice--a faint spark of hope. Catra could feel the warmth it gave off, like a tiny flame quickly consuming a lit matchstick. It wouldn’t last forever.

Without wasting another second to think, Catra surged forward and kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO'S HYPE FOR SEASON TWOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! april 26th, y'all. THREE MONTHS! anyway, i was inspired by the news and this happened. here u go gays hope ur happy now
> 
> to preemptively answer this question: NO this is not the end of the fic. i have 8 billion other plots going on so don't worry we're like....maybe halfway through. thanks for sticking with it! i love love LOVE reading all your comments. shoutout to the folks who comment often, ur all my pals now <3
> 
> and oh, if you think this means no more angst.......hahahahahahahhaAHAHAHAHH


	12. Chapter 12

Despite what gleefully optimistic cartoons might say, some things were, quite simply, impossible. Catra knew that to be true. The knowledge didn’t necessarily stop her from trying stupid things, but still. Some things were impossible: running up buildings, sneezing without blinking, giving a damn about school sixteen hours after making out with your best friend...

Every time Catra thought about it, her stomach flipped. Kissing Adora would have topped her list of the impossible just a few days earlier. Now here she was, barely even caring that she was trapped in math class, quietly relishing the rush that came every time she recalled a memory from the previous night.

Adora’s voice shaking despite all the courage behind her words. A moment of deliberation, threatening perpetuity until that single lapse in thought. That first incomparable spark. The overwhelming sense that nothing could matter more--until the rising panic came. Breaking away suddenly only to find her most sedated hopes confirmed again by that goofy, perfect smile on Adora’s face. Catra’s complete and utter disorientation, wondering how she felt like she was soaring off into the stratosphere despite falling back under another body’s grounding weight. The fading fingers of the sunset reaching into the room like lighthouse beacons guiding her home. Electricity that tingled in her lips long after she left. Falling asleep, warm and comfortable even with the blankets strewn across the floor. Safe.

Catra didn’t dare let herself replay the entire scene in full. The flashes were enough to force her to hide a smile. Her teachers took note of her unusual cheeriness, throwing confused glances at her whenever they caught her doing anything other than rolling her eyes or snoring during their lectures. Another day, Catra might have cared, but she hardly noticed. She had better things to think about.

Getting through boring classes without paying attention was easy enough, but practice was another story entirely. Zoning out for a split second could lead to a concussion--or worse, Coach Weaver’s wrath. Catra did her best to keep her eye on the ball, the field, her teammates, but every lull invited Adora back into her head. During the third shooting drill of the day, she decided that focus was overrated and jogged over to the bench, making sure to exaggerate the slight limp that her ankle was causing.

If Coach Weaver clocked Catra’s exit from the field, she didn’t show it. When Scorpia turned in the direction of the bench, Catra gestured to her ankle and pointed her thumb down at the ground. Scorpia nodded and responded with a thumbs up. Catra hoped that Scorpia wasn’t secretly rejoicing in their newfound non-verbal communication skills.

To be fair, Catra’s excuse for sitting out wasn’t entirely a lie. Considering she hadn’t had a single day off from practicing or, well, walking, her ankle wasn’t even close to being a hundred percent. She would have gone up to the locker room to grab her phone for entertainment, but successfully going up the stairs would be grounds for Coach Weaver to force her back onto the field. Unfortunately, benching herself meant she was about to very, very bored, which could only lead to...distracting thoughts.

Just then, a flash of purple dashed in front of her. Strange--very strange, she thought, once she figured out who it was. Scorpia’s friend Entrapta was carrying a tray of water bottles. There had to be a good reason.

“Entrapta,” Catra called out.

The purple blur whipped around. “Catra! Why aren’t you playing?”

“Twisted my ankle. It’s pretty bad,” Catra said, stretching out her leg and showing off the fading bruises for the full effect.

“Fascinating,” Entrapta said, suddenly very much in Catra’s personal space.

“What are you--hey!”

Entrapta less than gingerly lifted Catra’s foot to examine the purple and yellow splotches. “It looks like a supernova. Or maybe one of those cosmic debris clouds full of space garbage, I can't decide. Would you mind if I take a picture? Just one, two, maybe seven.” She was already snapping away with her phone.

Instead of trying to talk through Entrapta’s relentless babbling, Catra opted for a different approach. She reached out and ran a hand through the end of Entrapta’s long, unexpectedly natural-feeling hair. It worked--Entrapta’s attention abruptly shifted.

“So are you our manager now?” Catra asked.

“I suppose,” Entrapta replied. “I haven’t exactly resigned from my post at Bright Moon, but Coach Weaver asked me to come today for some reason that I have very much forgotten.”

Catra ignored the many, many irrelevant syllables in that sentence and wrapped a single lock of purple hair around her finger. “Would you mind grabbing me some ice? Like I said, my ankle’s really hurting.”

“Uh, sure,” Entrapta said, standing. As she started towards the gym, Catra shouted over her shoulder.

“And my phone?”

“No problem. A little combination lock never stopped me.”

Catra didn’t use her locker anyway; it was too much effort. No one was stupid enough to steal out of her bag. In any case, she made a mental note to never ask about Entrapta’s apparently lengthy history with codebreaking.

A few minutes later, Entrapta returned with a bag of ice and, to Catra’s delight, her phone. The strange new manager drifted away before Catra could say anything related to a thank-you.

As Catra unlocked her phone, she felt a strange pang of...guilt? Was that guilt she felt? Why? Harmlessly flirting was a useful way to get things. Now her damn feelings were getting in the way of her most effective sit-and-do-nothing strategy? How rude.

She pushed down the unpleasantness and decided to redirect her energy at a more worthwhile target.

 **Catra (4:16 pm)** \- _hey_

She mentally kicked herself. Adora would obviously also be in practice. How was she supposed to distract herself from thinking about Adora if Adora wasn’t around to distract her? And what kind of greeting was that, anyway? She could do so much better--and she would. With an evil little smirk, she started typing.

 **Catra (4:16 pm)** \- _kiss any cute girls lately?_

She only wished she could see Adora’s face turn Horde-red as she read that. A few minutes of pointless social media browsing later, Catra’s phone vibrated.

 **Adora (4:22 pm)** \- _Hi_

 **Adora (4:22 pm)** \- _Wait, are you texting me from practice?_

Not exactly the cute, romantic direction Catra was trying to go with this, but whatever. 

**Catra (4:22 pm)** \- _aren’t you?_

 **Adora (4:22 pm)** \- _We’re on a water break!_

 **Catra (4:23 pm)** \- _and i’m on the bench_

 **Adora (4:23 pm)** \- _Oh :(_

 **Adora (4:23 pm)** - _So how’s your day so far?_

Catra snorted at that. She saw what was going on here: Adora had no idea how to flirt. Somehow, her complete lack of experience in this realm was infinitely more endearing than any line.

...Or maybe she’d changed her mind overnight. Maybe she was very deliberately avoiding any sort of...no. _Don’t go there._

 **Catra (4:23 pm)** \- _it’s fine_

 **Catra (4:23 pm)** \- _nerd_

 **Catra (4:23 pm)** \- _you?_

 **Adora (4:23 pm)** \- _Do you want to come over tonight?_

That caught Catra off guard. Adora was a fan of the direct approach in most situations, but Catra didn’t necessarily expect it to apply here. All of this--whatever they weren’t calling it yet--was new, and Adora still embraced her trademark strategy of walking straight through any obstacles to get where she wanted to go.

 **Adora (4:23 pm)** \- _Break’s over. Let me know :)_

The complete lack of pretense threw Catra, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit smug that Adora wasn’t even bothering to be subtle.

Then a shadow fell over her. She looked up to see Coach Weaver looming, blocking out the sun. It was all a little too melodramatic, even for the coach.

“Something funny?”

Catra realized she’d been grinning at her screen. How silly to think that she could get away with being happy without getting caught. “Nothing. It was just--”

“Adora, I hope?”

Catra held eye contact for a moment, but she couldn’t summon the typical burning animosity that fueled her glares. She glanced away and felt the corner of her mouth curl upwards.

“How wonderful that you two are still in touch,” Coach Weaver added.

The sickeningly sweet tone in the coach’s voice made Catra grimace involuntarily. “Can I go get more ice?” She asked flatly.

“By all means,” Coach Weaver said dismissively. “But you’ll miss the big announcement.”

“Let me guess. Captain Scorpia’s implementing mandatory sleepover parties every other weekend.”

Coach Weaver simply hummed to herself. “Smart of you not to play on that ankle.”

Catra wasn’t sure she heard that quite right. Smart? Who? “What?”

“That awful purple color doesn’t really suit you, dear girl.”

Was that a...joke? Was Coach Weaver cracking jokes now?

A talon-like hand reached out to Catra, offering to help her stand. Stunned, Catra took it, rose to her feet, and followed the coach to join the rest of the team.

Scorpia was in the middle of making an announcement, something involving a weekly snack duty rotation. It was something that would aggressively not matter to Catra under normal circumstances, let alone seconds after receiving a actual compliment from Coach Weaver. 

Coach Weaver clapped twice, shutting the team up immediately. Scorpia shuffled out of the way so that the coach could claim her space at the front of the huddle.

“As the more perceptive among you may have noticed,” she began, “we have a new team member to welcome.” She summoned Entrapta forward with a crooked finger.

“Eh...hi. Everyone.” Entrapta waved awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable in the spotlight. Why was she even here? Didn’t she go to Bright Moon? What was all this about?

Coach Weaver kept a vice grip on Entrapta’s shoulder. “Entrapta will be serving as our manager, but she’s also a brilliant designer. This Saturday, we will have the honor of testing her prototype for a new field hockey stick.”

Scorpia raised her hand. Coach Weaver sighed on cue before calling on her.

“Scorpia.”

“So, I’ve seen Entrapta’s blueprints, and...wow. There’s a lot happening there.”

Entrapta grinned. Apparently that was a compliment.

Scorpia went on, rubbing the back of her neck. “And, look. I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but I’m pretty sure they’re illegal.”

“Well, sure, if you want to get _technical_ about it,” Entrapta said. "My formula for synthetic resin requires some uncommon reagents. As in not exactly available for consumer purchase in Etheria. I've appealed my patent several times, but they've stopped returning my calls." 

Catra stared at Entrapta. How did this high schooler have beef with professional scientists? 

Coach Weaver broke in. “Regardless. It’s only a skirmish, so you don’t need to worry yourself with conference regulations, Scorpia.”

Scorpia thought for a second, then seemed to find peace with the rationalization. “Yeah.” She smiled to herself, content.

“Before we continue, one more announcement,” Coach Weaver said. “I would like you all to congratulate your assistant captain.”

Catra looked around the huddle, wondering who it could be.

Then, she noticed that everyone was staring, and Coach Weaver was looking dead at her.

Before Catra could react, Scorpia flung her arm around her shoulders and cheered. “Yeah, Catra! Oh, this is great. We’re gonna plan so many activities. Best friends leading the team--what could be better?” 

“Yeah,” Catra managed, still shocked.

“Captains, I’ll need you both to stay after practice,” Weaver said.

Scorpia saluted her. “You know us. Anything for the team.”

“Yeah,” Catra repeated distantly.

Did they have an assistant captain last year? She couldn’t remember. Maybe Scorpia had put in a good word. Catra certainly hadn’t done anything remarkable enough to deserve it on her own--that was clear enough when Scorpia won the first captain race by a visible margin. Surely sitting out just because she hurt her ankle wasn’t what changed Coach Weaver’s mind. Was that all it took? One smart move was enough to earn a little bit of confidence?

Catra returned to her spot on the bench for the rest of practice, wondering what could possibly have motivated this promotion. On the one hand, it meant that she’d have some actual responsibilities on the team, and Scorpia wouldn’t let her get away with slacking. In spite of the sudden expectations, Catra felt...proud. Then she remembered what a captains' meeting would mean for her potential evening plans. 

**Catra (4:54 pm)** \- _the creature from the black lagoon is holding us hostage for a while after practice_

 **Adora (5:02 pm)** \- _So are you coming over or...?_

 **Catra (5:02 pm)** \- _you know i do have to do homework at some point_

 **Adora (5:02 pm)** \- _Who are you and what have you done with Catra????_

 **Catra (5:03 pm)** - _ha_

 **Adora (5:04 pm)** \- _We can have a study party if you want_

 **Catra (5:04 pm)** \- _be still my heart_

 **Adora (5:04 pm)** \- _Hey_

 **Adora (5:04 pm)** \- _We can also_

 **Adora (5:05 pm)** - _You know_

 **Adora (5:07 pm)** \- _Do other stuff_

 **Catra (5:07 pm)** \- _anybody ever told you how incredibly articulate you are_

 **Adora (5:07 pm)** \- _I can make a pretty good speech when it counts, dontcha think?_

With that, Catra could not disagree.

The meeting ended up being shorter than anticipated. Coach Weaver gave Catra a captain’s jersey, complete with a patch to make the position official. They planned Thursday and Friday’s practices together, and Catra got her favorite shooting drill on the schedule. It felt surreal all the way to the parking lot, at least until Scorpia started talking.

“Honestly, assistant captain sounds kind of business-y. What are you, my secretary?” Scorpia “How about junior captain? Ooh, maybe vice captain?”

Catra tuned out.

 **Catra (5:43 pm)** \- _still up for a that study party?_

 **Adora (5:43 pm)** \- _:D_

“Catra?” Scorpia asked. “Your face is doin’ something weird. Oh my god, you’re smiling--real quick, captains selfie?” She already had her phone ready to go.

“Not now,” Catra said bluntly. “I gotta go.”

“Whoa, someone’s in a rush. You got a hot date or something?”

Catra looked away.

Scorpia gasped and covered her mouth daintily. “Oh my god, you’ve got a hot date or something.”

“I do not,” Catra insisted.

“Is it Adora?”

Catra just glared.

Scorpia wiggled her eyebrows.

“Stop.”

The wiggling continued.

“Scorpia.”

“Alright, go on." She wiped a tear from her eye. "I knew you two crazy kids would figure it out eventually.”

Catra wasn’t even a little surprised by Scorpia’s sudden emotionality.

“Go get ‘er,” Scorpia said, patting Catra on the head.

***

Adora sped through her history reading, barely absorbing any of what she was reading. Some leader was super arrogant, lost a bunch of soldiers in a battle, destroyed his kingdom, blah blah blah. History was full of people doing stupid things. Not important right now. When was Catra getting here?

She only had to suffer through another half hour of textbooks before the doorbell rang. Adora bolted from her room and barreled down the stairs, nearly tripping. She heard three impatient knocks on the other side of the door. Just as she was about to open it, she paused, took a breath to collect herself, and slowly turned the knob.

“So you knock now?” Adora said as she opened the door.

Instead of Catra, she saw a deliveryman clad in blue shorts who filled most of the doorway with his stocky shoulders. He handed her a small box and raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. We still do that.”

Adora flashed an awkward smile and accepted the box. The delivery guy backed away, side-eyeing Adora. As soon as he moved out of the door frame, another figure slid out from behind the pillars flanking the porch stairs. Of course. Of course Catra had heard that entire interaction. Adora slapped her hand to her forehead.

“You really think I’d knock?” Catra asked, not bothering to hide her amusement as she sauntered up the stairs and leaned against the wall just next to the door.

The utterly obnoxious smirk on Catra’s face was enough to snap Adora out of her embarrassment. She determined that there was one foolproof way to make that cocky little smile vanish.

Adora disappeared into the house without a word. She popped out again a second later, grabbed Catra’s hand, and pulled her inside.

Up in Adora’s room, Catra took all of two seconds to make herself at home on the bed. She threw her backpack on the floor, flopped onto the covers, and lounged around like it was her own house.

“Throw me my water bottle?” Catra asked from the other side of the room.

“Is it inside your bag?” Adora asked, trying to hide the judgmental edge in her voice.

Catra rolled her eyes.

Adora unzipped Catra’s backpack. “I keep telling you--”

“Yeah, I know. Someday I’ll destroy all of my books or whatever. You know I’d be devastated if I accidentally drowned _Hamlet_.”

"Funny you should say that," Adora muttered to herself. As she rifled through the biggest pocket, she felt something soft. Jersey fabric? She pulled it out of the bag and saw a Horde uniform--with a bright yellow “C” stitched onto the arms. She turned to Catra. “You’re a _captain?!”_

“Oh, yeah.”

“Since when?”

“Like, an hour ago.”

“Catra, that’s amazing!” Adora bounded across the room in three steps and leapt into the bed, still holding the uniform. She held it up in front of Catra’s torso and looked her over. “And I bet you look pretty good in this.”

Catra almost cracked a smile. “I haven’t tried it on yet.”

“Why aren’t you excited?” Adora asked, letting the jersey fall onto the covers.

Catra sighed. “I’m assistant captain. Or...vice president, if you ask Scorpia.”

“So? That means you’re basically guaranteed to be first captain next year. And I’m sure you’ll be awesome at it.”

Catra narrowed her eyes.

“I’m serious, you know,” Adora added.

“Yeah, seriously a nerd.” Catra reached out and nudged Adora’s shoulder.

“You’re the one who wanted to have a study party so bad.”

“That was definitely your idea.”

Adora pulled her phone out of her back pocket and read her most recent message from Catra. “‘Still up for that study party?’ Boom. Proof.”

“Ugh, you’re so obnoxious.”

Adora crossed her arms. “Says the girl who breaks into my house to steal my food.”

Catra casually sat back on her elbows. Had she always looked so good in those leggings? “So are we doing homework or what?”

“Definitely.” Adora managed to tear her gaze away to spring up and fetch their backpacks.

Catra groaned and sat up. “I can’t believe you tricked me into studying.”

“I can’t believe it worked,” Adora joked, taking out her chemistry textbook.

Two sentences into learning about atoms, Adora glanced up to see Catra huddled up by the headboard reading a small book. If the deepening crease between her brows was anything to go on, she wasn’t enjoying it. Probably suffering through _Hamlet_. Did anyone survive junior year without having to read that play?

Catra glanced up to see Adora staring at her. 

Adora tried to look away as inconspicuously as possible, though stealth wasn’t her strong suit.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra started, “you’ve read this, right?”

_“Hamlet?”_

“Unfortunately," Catra sneered as she showed off the cover. 

“Yeah. What’s up?” Adora scooted up the bed until she was right next to Catra and sitting on top of a pillow.

Catra pointed to a sentence. “What the hell does this mean?”

“Oh, um...” Adora tried to remember. “Something about how morality is constructed, I think--”

Then she felt Catra’s lips on her cheek.

Slowly, Adora turned to face her. “You don’t care what the Prince of Denmark’s saying, do you?”

“Who?” Catra asked, genuinely confused but entirely disinterested.

Adora started laughing, but Catra interrupted her with a kiss. For a few seconds, Adora forgot that she actually had things to get done, content to melt into the moment. It felt different than it had yesterday--less explosive and desperate, a little more tentative. More real.

When Catra’s hand found its way to Adora’s waist, Adora pulled away. Catra’s wide, mismatched eyes were nearly enough to bring Adora back in, but she steeled herself. “Read,” she said firmly.

Catra growled. “Fine.”

They managed to work rather productively for the next hour. Catra would occasionally point out an innuendo in the play, and Adora made sure to show Catra each time she found a bad pun in her chemistry textbook. There were a lot.

After a while, Catra dropped her book into her lap. “That’s it. I can’t take another scene of this whiny bastard.”

“Three problems left,” Adora said. “Then I’m done for tonight.”

“Thank god.” Catra picked up her new uniform and got up from the bed.

When Catra started taking her shirt off, Adora felt her cheeks flush. She kept her eyes very deliberately glued to her paper.

“You were right,” Catra said.

Adora dared to glance up. A red uniform top had no right to look that good on anyone, let alone someone who was already so cute.

“What?” Catra said, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. “Is the tag out or something?”

“Oh, no,” Adora said quickly. She realized she’d been staring in silence. “It--it’s great. Super cool.”

Catra snorted. “Like I said, so articulate.” Without warning, she stripped off the uniform, leaving her in just a sports bra and those leggings.

Adora swallowed hard. This wasn’t weird for them. They’d changed in front of each other a hundred times. In light of recent revelations, however, Adora found it all a little...overwhelming.

“Coach Weaver asked about you,” Catra said, sitting on the bed. Adora saw that she was once again fully clothed and breathed a sigh of relief. “Guess you’re still her favorite,” Catra went on.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You wanna tell her that?”

Adora lay back and stared up at the ceiling. “She probably still wants me to spy on Bright Moon.”

“I doubt it,” Catra said.

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing,” Catra said quickly.

“You know, I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Can you?” Catra asked.

Adora sat up to face her. “Is that a challenge?”

Catra didn’t say anything when Adora moved into her space. Adora could feel the exact moment she got close enough to make Catra stop breathing for a second, and it sent a chill up her back. Instead of closing the gap between them, she sat back, secretly thrilled with her little victory.

“You’re probably right. I’m just being paranoid. Sometimes I feel like she’s still in my head, you know?” Adora said, absently touching the back of Catra’s hand.

“Yeah,” Catra said.

When Adora looked up at her, Catra was looking off at the wall. “Are you okay?”

Catra’s eyes focused on Adora.

Adora went on, feeling the nervous babbling starting. It worried her when Catra got all quiet. “It’s gonna be weird playing on different teams this Saturday.”

“Aw, scared to lose?” Catra teased. 

“Not a chance,” Adora smiled. “Now, will you please get over here?”

Needless to say, Adora didn’t think about school or sports once for the rest of the evening.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here have some more fluff before things go completely sideways! <3 
> 
> thanks for all the wonderful comments on the last chapter!!! i'm glad that my little passion project has resonated with so many of you. *critical role jester voice* it's pretty coooool
> 
> my work schedule is goofy this week so posting early. enjoyyyyyy


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild content warning: end of this chapter has some shadow weaver being her shitty, nasty, manipulative self. just in case that upsets anyone.

Glimmer took baking as seriously as school tours and dance planning-- _frighteningly seriously_. From the moment Adora arrived for the scheduled Thursday evening baking event, she knew not to question orders.

The pastel pastry chef in question answered the door gruffly. Admittedly, the flour streaks on her face might have undermined her stony attitude a little, but she didn’t hesitate to throw an apron in Adora’s face.

“You’re late,” Glimmer said, already turning and heading back to the kitchen.

“Didn’t we say 8?” Adora asked. She tried to tie her apron on, but it was a bit difficult to do while keeping up with Glimmer’s powerwalking pace.

Glimmer pivoted to help Adora secure her apron. “Yes. We did. And it’s 8:04, which means we’re behind schedule.”

Sous chef Bow was already busy in the kitchen pressing buttons on the oven. The appliance beeped angrily at him, but he persisted.

Glimmer sighed as she escorted Adora to her designated counter station. “I suppose it’s fine. We hit a little speed bump with the electric mixer anyway.”

Adora raised an eyebrow at Bow, suspecting that this “speed bump” had something to do with the layer of flour caking the front of his apron, his cheeks, and most of his hair. He smiled sheepishly and tried to clean his face off with a damp paper towel.

“This is why I always tell you to firmly secure the splatter guards.” Glimmer shook her head. Her utter unwillingness to half-ass anything was one of the best things about her. If something was important to her friends, her mother, or her teammates, it was just as important to Glimmer. It didn’t matter if it was studying for a final exam or relaxing on a day off from class. Or making a cake for a party. “Now we have to remeasure all the dry ingredients for the vanilla half.”

“I’m on it,” Bow said, saluting her quite seriously. He might have been more of a goofball than Glimmer, but he could be just as dedicated to a cause. Especially if that cause was something as divinely inspired as baking from scratch.

“Adora, you can start the chocolate batter,” Glimmer ordered. It’s basically the same as the vanilla, but you’ll need to replace a quarter cup of flour with unsweetened cocoa.” She presented Adora with some kind of flat plastic rectangle. “And use this for leveling.”

Adora stared at the strange utensil in her hand, rotating it in the hopes that it would reveal its purpose if the light hit it in a certain way. “For...what?”

Glimmer let out another exaggerated sigh. “Am I the only one who watched cooking shows on sick days?”

“I don’t want to say yes...” Bow started.

“Yes,” Adora finished. She measured out some baking powder. Wait, was it supposed to be baking soda? Nah. This was probably fine. Right?

Bow slid a cake pan into the oven. “And vanilla is in!”

Glimmer threw her hands in the air. “You two are impossible!” She ran to the oven and pulled the pan out with her bare hands, refusing to so much as flinch at the heat. “Bow, we’re making a marble cake. Key word _marble_.”

His face flushed and he backed away from the oven. “My bad, Glimmer. I guess I got excited.”

Glimmer’s iron (chef) façade softened as she gazed up at Bow. He looked so genuinely apologetic that it was impossible to stay mad at him for longer than four and a half seconds.

“Hey, Glimmer?” Adora asked. “Are baking soda and baking powder the same thing?”

Glimmer’s eyes went wide.

Fortunately, the recipe did in fact call for baking powder, so Adora narrowly escaped being beaten into a merengue. Once the chocolate batter was up to Glimmer’s standards, she banished Bow and Adora from the kitchen and marbled the cake herself. This wasn’t something she was willing to leave up to “amateurs who have never even seen _Cupcake Wars_.”

Thirty-nine minutes later, a perfectly perfect marble cake emerged from the oven. Adora dared to stick a finger in the buttercream frosting, but Bow slapped her hand away with a spatula.

“There’s a ratio, Adora,” he explained.

Glimmer nodded. “A very strict ratio. I don’t want anyone ending up with a dry piece of cake at this party.”

Adora snatched the spatula from Bow. “Can I at least lick this?” Catra would definitely have made a dirty joke following that comment. Adora tried not to think about it for fear of blushing randomly.

Glimmer completed her trifecta of dramatic sighs for the evening. “If you must. Go ahead.”

Despite Glimmer’s intensity--and Bow’s intensity by osmosis--it was by far the most fun Adora ever had in the kitchen. She’d had a couple of really great days, she realized, and couldn’t help but smile as the sweet buttercream frosting made her taste buds sing. “Glimmer, this frosting is incredible.”

“Thank you. It took me and my Aunt Casta a few birthdays to perfect the recipe, but I think we nailed it.”

After they whipped out a batch of red velvet cupcakes for Bow, the oven finally got to rest. Glimmer even let her assistants sit down for a few minutes while the cakes cooled on top of the stove. She, however, continued to move about the kitchen like a relentless, cake-obsessed shark.

“So I’m thinking we stick with school colors and do Bright Moon blue for the icing. The buttercream is sort of an off-white, but I think we can make it work,” Glimmer said. She paced through the living from while Bow stretched out on a couch. Adora couldn’t bring herself to put her feet up on anything, even the foot rest. The living room furnishings alone must have cost about as much as a year’s tuition at Bright Moon. Not to mention the beautiful, chrome-brushed kitchen appliances and pristine granite countertops. Was everything in Glimmer’s house perfect?

To Adora’s surprise, the double door at one end of the living room opened up. She jumped a little, not realizing that the door was anything more than decorative (there were at least two other purely decorative doors in the house, so the assumption was anything but a stretch). A familiar, ethereal spectre of a woman walked out.

“Coach Angella,” Adora said, sitting up as straight as she could on the plush couch.

“Hello, Adora. Bow, darling. I’m so glad you two could help Glimmer with her little baking project.” Angella’s slight smile lacked its usual sparkle.

Glimmer, though, frowned. “Mom, we made stuff for the whole team. Don’t you think calling it a _little_ project is a _little_ reductive?”

“Ah. Of course, dear. My apologies. You’ve all done a brilliant job...” Coach Angella floated out of the living room and headed for the stairs. “Goodnight.”

For some reason, that deepened Glimmer’s grimace.

Adora’s lack of tact and encroaching boredom encouraged her to ask. She turned to Glimmer. “What’s going on with her?”

Glimmer paused her pacing long enough for a dismissive hand gesture.

“What?” Adora pushed.

Bow sat up, tuning into the more serious turn of the conversation, and brought his feet up to sit cross-legged. How could he dare do something so bold on such a white couch, even without his shoes on? Then again, he’d probably been a regular at Glimmer’s house for as long as Catra had been haunting Adora’s fridge. Maybe even longer.

Glimmer finally sat down when Bow looked at her sternly and patted the spot next to him.

“What’s is it, Glimmer?” He asked.

She swung her legs against the couch. “I don’t know. My mom’s been snapping at me a lot. Going to sleep really late. Forgetting stuff. I went into her office the other day to try and find an eraser and saw a whole notebook full of field hockey plays.”

Bow put his hand on Glimmer’s shoulder. “You think she’s nervous about the game?”

“I think the thought of losing to Coach Weaver is really getting to her.”

“Why?” Adora asked. Their coaches might have gone to the same school once upon a time, but how could a high school sports rivalry last for twenty years? Then again, Coach Weaver had a way of sinking her claws into people and never letting them go.

“Who knows?” Glimmer replied. “We have to win that skirmish. My mom will be devastated if we lose.”

Bow nodded. “All of us will.” He looked at Adora.

“We’ll win,” Adora said firmly. “Ever since coming to Bright Moon, I’ve seen the Horde for what it really is. The team’s basically a bunch of pawns for Coach Weaver’s own personal game of revenge chess.”

“Yeah. If revenge chess means that suddenly all basic decency goes out the window,” Glimmer grumbled. She glanced up at Adora a second later. “Sorry. I know a lot of your friends are still on the team. I don’t mean to say they’re bad people, just that--”

“It’s okay, Glimmer,” Adora smiled. Now wasn’t the time to bring up the fact that Coach Weaver offered actual rewards for players to play dirty. The players were mostly nice off the field, but their perception of the rules was definitely skewed.

Glimmer and Bow shared a look that more than hinted at their uncertainty.

Adora felt the need to reassure them. “Coach Angella’s not the only one who wants to take down Weaver. Don’t worry, guys. I’m ready to take on the Horde. ”

Bow steeled himself, eradicating any hint of doubt from his voice. “If you say so.”

Glimmer nodded in agreement.

Just then, the timer on Glimmer’s phone started blaring. She sprang up and returned to the kitchen. “Time to decorate. Everyone report back to your stations!”

As Adora could have predicted, Glimmer’s baked goods went over spectacularly at the party the next day. Bow cradled the cake during the half-hour drive up to Mermista’s lake house, and Adora was stuck in the cramped back seat of Glimmer’s beetle car trying to balance an entire tray of cupcakes. It didn’t help that Glimmer was still perfecting smooth braking. By some miracle, the arrived with the cakes intact--except for one cupcake that Adora may or may not have eaten along the way.

The lake house surpassed Adora’s expectations. She’d been thinking this would be some kind of log cabin by the water, but it was more an entire two-story house with a fire pit in the backyard. No fewer than two boats were parked (did people “park” boats?) at the end of a dock a ways out from the house.

“Shoes off inside the house, if you want to smoke do it as far away from me as possible, and don't do anything stupid. We can take the speedboat out later or whatever, but Sea Hawk is _not_ driving,” Mermista announced during her welcome speech. Sea Hawk hung his head, less in shame and more like a six-year-old whose favorite toy train had been confiscated.

Adora leaned in closer to Bow and asked him what Sea Hawk had done to get thrown in the maritime dog house. Apparently he’d set no fewer than two of the family’s boats on fire in the last year. Adora questioned why he was even allowed within a mile of a water vehicle, but she suspected his continued presence at the lake house had something to do with his not-so-covert relationship with their ostensibly disaffected hostess. Even someone as oblivious as Adora could see what was going on. Given Mermista’s flashy wardrobe and Sea Hawk’s inability to keep his mouth shut more than a few seconds, they weren’t exactly going to win “Stealthiest Couple.”

There weren’t any official activities planned for the team party, so everyone gravitated into little clusters out by the lake and inside the living room. Most of the groups discussed the skirmish on Saturday, and the team was divided as far as confidence levels. Some of the Rebels were sure they would win, including the captains. Netossa was challenging everyone at the party who wasn’t completely sure they would crush the Horde to “motivational” arm wrestling matches. Adora decided to slip out before the more hot-headed captain could throw down the gauntlet.

Adora decided to take a walk by the water, staring off at nothing more than observing the natural surroundings. Occasionally a sailboat floated across the horizon and reminded her where she was, but otherwise she was content to just forget that she was at a party for a while. She liked her teammates, sure, but she’d still only known them for two weeks. Besides Glimmer, Bow, and maybe a few others, they were all pretty much strangers to her. And crowds weren’t the most comfortable thing in the world. Constant chatter made it hard to think, and out here in the quiet she could reflect on what the skirmish might mean for her new team and her old team. She didn’t want to ruin the party with any unpleasant talk of how anxious she was to face off against her long-time friends. It was better to sort through this on her own.

After an hour or so, Adora returned to the house. Glimmer and Bow immediately swarmed her.

“Where were you?” Glimmer asked. “We tried calling.”

“Oh. I guess my phone doesn’t get reception up here,” Adora lied. She’d very much left her phone in Mermista’s kitchen. Quiet time to think definitely didn’t include screens.

Bow enveloped her in a hug. “We thought you’d been eaten by wolves.”

Glimmer glommed onto them. “He thought that. I, for one, know that there are no wolves in this area.”

“Because you called three different ranger stations freaking out that your friend might have been eaten by wolves.”

“Not the point, Bow.” Glimmer broke the embrace. “Anyway, we’re glad you’re back. Do you want any food?”

Mermista came out of the house and sauntered up to the group. When she saw Adora, she threw a sideways glance at Glimmer. “Told you she wouldn’t get eaten.”

“Is it so wrong to be concerned?!” Glimmer crossed her arms.

“Perfuma took the freshmen out on the water. Everyone’s who’s done the whole sunset boat ride thing before is inside,” Mermista said in her trademark monotone way.

Adora took a deep breath and braced herself for re-joining the party. “Cool. Anything fun happening?”

“I guess. Pizza, video games, spin the bottle.”

Adora narrowed her eyes. “Spin the what?”

Bow gasped. “You’ve never heard of spin the bottle? Man, your old school really was a prison.”

“Pshh. Of course I’ve heard of it. You just--you take a bottle and you...you spin it, right?”

“Sure,” Mermista said. “And then you kiss the person it’s pointing at or whatever.”

“The rules vary,” Glimmer added. “Sometimes you get locked in a closet together for seven minutes.”

Adora’s eyes went wide. “What?!” She squeaked.

Bow chimed in. “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. Sometimes it’s just kisses on the cheek.”

“And we’re doing this? This is a thing people do? For fun?” Adora asked, feeling the color rush out of her cheeks.

“Okay, wow. I was kidding,” Mermista said slowly. “But super weird reaction.”

If Adora wasn’t mistaken, Mermista seemed almost...interested in this conversation. Wait, were they friends now? When did that happen?

Mermista waved her hand in the air, tossing the concept to the wind. “It’s a stupid game, anyway.”

“Hah, yeah. As if any of us would _actually_ want to play spin the bottle,” Glimmer laughed nervously.

Bow joined her, his crackling guffaws a little too loud to be convincingly casual. “Yeah, what is this? A seventh grade birthday party?”

Adora thought she saw Glimmer deflate a little. Was this one of those things that everyone pretended wasn’t cool but secretly wanted to do? Why was high school so confusing?

They all followed Mermista inside. Glimmer and Bow went straight for the pizza--apparently they’d worked up an appetite playing something called “Cornhole” in the backyard. Adora didn’t want to embarrass herself any further by asking what that meant, so she just nodded and went to the kitchen.

She snacked on some chips that Honorable Snack Master Sea Hawk, Esquire had purchased (he would only respond if people referred to him with the complete title). Even without the threat of spin the bottle, Adora was uneasy about returning to the group. What if they were still talking about the game? She knew that a lot of people at Bright Moon didn’t hold Hordak Academy in particularly high esteem, and she didn’t really feel like listening to her new teammates gossip about her old home. If the conversation went down that route, there was really no good way to leave without seeming like she was still loyal to the Horde on some level.

And maybe she was. The more she dwelled on it, the more she realized: it was going to be hard playing against the people she’d trained with for so long. Bow and Glimmer might have been understanding of Adora’s anxieties, but there was no way to know how the rest of the team felt. It was far too likely that finding out would only bolster everything Coach Weaver taught them about Bright Moon: it might be shiny on the outside, but the school instilled its students with the belief that they were superior to others on the simple basis that they could afford the tuition. What if the Rebels really did look down on the Horde?

Adora wasn’t going to let thoughtless gossip settle the matter for her, and so the kitchen was where she stayed.

Once she got to the bottom of the bag of popcorn chips, she figured she should probably leave some snacks for the rest of the guests. She checked her phone, and she wondered if her stomach would ever stop doing a little flip every time she saw “New Message from Catra” on the screen. Probably not.

When Adora opened the message, she was very, very glad she hadn’t done so in the company of other people. It wasn’t exactly a scandalous image, just a selfie of Catra sticking her tongue out. The flattering angle was enough to make Adora’s heart skip, but the caption made her break out blushing.

 **Catra (3:14 pm)** \- _like my new sports bra?_

Considering only one bright pink shoulder strap was actually visible in the photo, Adora was pretty sure that Catra was not fishing for a compliment about her fashion sense. No, the purpose behind this photo was clear, and Catra likely knew she’d succeeded in making Adora turn a very bright shade of red. There was really no way she could handle taking this conversation any further in the direction Catra was steering it, so she responded with the most innocuous thing she could think of.

 **Adora (3:17 pm)** \- _Yeah it’s cool!!_

 **Catra (3:18 pm)** \- _nerd_

“Adora?”

Glimmer’s voice nearly made Adora jump out of her skin.

“Hey!” Adora exclaimed far too enthusiastically as she slapped her phone down on the counter. Something definitely cracked.

“Did you want any pizza?” Glimmer asked.

“Uh, sure.” Adora didn’t dare look at her probably-very-broken phone screen. “Right behind you.”

***

Catra’s week couldn’t have been going better. Everything was falling into place for once in her life, and it was nice. Even Coach Weaver wasn’t being a total asshole. She was letting a few lucky players try out Entrapta’s prototype sticks at Friday’s practice, and Catra was among those few. It was...bizarre. If Catra looked at the whole picture for too long, it was a little unsettling, like a perspective painting where the all the lines don’t quite point to the same vanishing point. She was probably just stressed about the skirmish. She hadn’t quite wrapped her head around the fact that she was going to have to play against Adora, and it probably wouldn’t hit her until they were on the field the next day. Still, she was on top of her game in every sense, and she wasn’t going to let nerves ruin it.

The new sticks made a thunderously loud _KLACK_ sound whenever they collided with a ball, and Scorpia’s slap shots were now entirely mistakable for gunshots. During their practice game, red jerseys versus white, she took one brave shot from midfield. _KRACK!_ The ball soared through the air. Along with half of her stick.

When Scorpia ran off the field in a tizzy, Coach Weaver blew the whistle and paused the game. Everyone convened near the sidelines to see Entrapta already inspecting Scorpia’s right arm. The prosthetic was seriously scraped up, and pieces of stick shrapnel stuck out of her forearm and hand. Several of the decorative little LEDs were shattered.

Catra ran up to the bench where Scorpia sat. “Are you okay?”

“We’ll have to replace those,” Entrapta muttered to herself and she poked a small tool into a light socket and received a slight electric shock in turn. One of Scorpia’s fingers twitched uncontrollably.

“I’m alright. Good thing my arms are made of fancy metal and stuff, otherwise that could have been a real doozy of a scratch.” Scorpia turned to Entrapta. “Sorry I broke your stick.”

“Are you kidding me? This is great! Now I know where the key structural weak points are. This will only make them stronger,” Entrapta assured her. Scorpia let out a sigh of relief.

“Great,” Catra jumped in. “So you can make them all un-weak before tomorrow?”

“Oh, no. It’ll take me at least a month to come up with a better resin substitute.”

“What?! We can’t play with these,” Catra insisted. “I don't know about you, but I don't really love the idea of getting _stabbed_.”

Coach Weaver floated over to the bench. “No blood. That’s a good sign.”

Catra glared at her. “We can’t use Entrapta’s prototypes. Scorpia’s lucky she didn’t get it worse. Most of us don’t have metal hands.”

“Catra, I’m fine. Really. But your concern is deeply touching.” Scorpia placed a hand over her heart. Then she whispered, “Super-pals forever.”

Coach Weaver took a step closer and stared Catra down. “Gear maintenance is not your job. You need to focus on leading this team to--”

“Are you crazy?” Catra yelled.

The whole team went silent.

Coach Weaver’s lip twitched. With a single hand gesture, she dismissed the rest of the team. “Water break, five minutes.” She pointed at Scorpia and Entrapta. “That includes you two. Catra, stay.”

Catra didn’t move. She felt like she couldn’t. If she tried to follow the team, she would only get in more trouble.

For a long moment, Coach Weaver didn’t say anything. She looked around, staring out at the field before speaking.

“This,” Coach Weaver pointed to the captain’s patch on Catra’s uniform, “is a great leap of faith. It would be a shame if you were to squander my trust.”

Catra scrunched up her face. “Who says ‘squander’ in this century?”

“Insolent child. Have I not given you everything you wanted?”

“Whatever.”

“You have learned nothing. Despite all the time you spend with your precious Adora, you remain lazy, entitled, and foolish.”

Catra shrank. Why bring Adora into this? She wasn’t here anymore. And still...still she was Coach Weaver’s favorite. Her prized player.

Coach Weaver went on. “Are you not committed to the Horde? To winning?”

“I...” The moment of hesitation before Catra could respond was enough to trigger Coach Weaver’s most ruthless state. She seemed to grow a foot and a half in mere moments. Though Catra rationally knew that this imposing stature was nothing more than a trick of the mind, she couldn’t help the shiver of fear that ran down her spine.

Coach Weaver’s words dripped with venom. “I should have known you’d choose to follow her.”

“What? I didn’t ‘follow’ anybody.”

“Your insistence on cowering in her shadow has only inspired disloyalty.”

Catra’s head wouldn’t stop spinning. Everything was foggy, and she felt a panicky heat rise in her chest. This didn’t make sense, but it wasn’t all wrong, either. Catra had been more focused on Adora than anything else during the past week. How was she supposed to pay attention tomorrow if she kept thinking about the other team’s goalie? It didn’t matter what Catra did or didn’t do--she was always, always to blame. If they lost, it would be her fault.

“If Entrapta cannot reverse this little accident, Scorpia may be unable to take the field tomorrow. In that case, you will have to fill in as first captain. Do not disappoint the Horde. If you let us down, I will _not_ make the mistake of trusting you again. This is more than a little skirmish, more than a game--it is your last chance. Are you willing to do whatever it takes to win?”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyy hope u like angst!!!! cuz she's here!!! this is a catradora fic, after all. 
> 
> (don't worry there's a happy ending but it's gonna be a RIDE getting there)
> 
> thanks to everyone who's been commenting and reading and everything! i love u all very much and i'm sending each of u a virtual hug and hot chocolate <3 <3


	14. Chapter 14

Adora hoped that every future team party would end with her taking home an entire pizza. It probably wasn’t the best thing to eat the night before a game, but her parents were away at a conference and she’d have to cook if she wanted anything else. That sounded like a lot of extra work. After socializing all day, Adora just didn’t have the energy to--

Wait. Back up.

Parents out of town.

House empty.

And you know who loved pizza? 

Adora snapped a picture of the box and sent it to Catra.

 **Adora (5:59 pm)** - _Want some??_

Right after sending the message, she realized that the wording was maybe a little suggestive. She wasn’t exactly not planning on tackling Catra onto the couch upon her arrival, but still. Adora could only think about that line of activity so much before her brain shut off altogether, and she needed to stay at least a little bit focused on preparing for the game. Eating pizza was already pushing it. 

One hour, two episodes of Nailed It, and three pepperoni slices later, Adora still hadn’t heard back. It was possible Coach Weaver had kept the team super late—she often ran extra long practices the day before a game. Or the day after a game. Or if she was in a bad mood. Really, whenever she felt like it. It didn’t make sense to exhaust players right before they had to face off against another team, but Coach Weaver claimed that it could only make them stronger. Still, 7:00 on a Friday night was late, even for her. Maybe Catra‘s doing homework, Adora thought. She nearly choked on her last bite of pizza laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the theory. Just as she picked up her fourth slice, her phone buzzed. 

**Catra (7:14 pm)** \- _can’t tonight_

Well. That was unexpected. If pizza wasn’t enough to draw Catra out of her cave, Adora would have to try a different tactic. She considered something along the lines of the photo Catra had sent her earlier, but the passing thought alone was enough to make her self-conscious. Blatant flirting was more Catra’s style. An adorable pouting selfie with giant puppy dog eyes was much more Adora’s speed.

 **Adora (7:16 pm)** \- _You sure?_

 **Catra (7:18 pm)** \- _yeah_

Hm. Weird.

 **Adora (7:18 pm)** \- _Is everything okay?_

 **Catra (7:21 pm)** \- _yeah just tired_

Adora knew something was definitely wrong. These responses were clipped, even for bad-mood Catra, but pressing her to talk about it if she didn’t want to would be the opposite of productive.

 **Adora (7:23 pm)** \- _Okay :(_

 **Adora (7:23 pm)** \- _Hope you feel better!_

 **Adora (7:24 pm)** \- _< 3_

Was that too much? It was probably too much. Three messages in a row? With a _heart?_ Clearly all this pizza was going to Adora’s head.

The fact that Adora’s phone suddenly started ringing did nothing to help her sparking nerves. Catra was...calling her?

Adora answered the FaceTime call, but all she could see was a ceiling fan. “Catra? Helloooo?”

Catra’s face appeared on the screen. Her mismatched eyes were wide in a soft, surprised expression that Adora found particularly endearing. It wasn’t at all unusual for Catra’s hair to be a mess, but she looked a little extra frazzled. She was still wearing her field hockey gear. “Ah, shit. Did I butt dial you?”

“I...guess you did.” Adora’s heart sank. She actually thought that Catra might be calling to talk about what was bothering her. It wasn’t weird for best friends to call each other to chat, and it certainly wasn’t weird for people who were dating to talk about their days. The problem was Adora wasn’t sure they were either of those things. They were something in between now. Undefined. And it made Adora very, very nervous. She didn’t like things she didn’t understand, things she couldn’t explain. It was in her nature to study until she knew all the answers, but this was something she couldn't look up online or in a textbook. She wasn’t going to know the answer until she asked.

“Alright, well...goodnight,” Catra said.

“Wait!” Adora stopped her right before she hung up--and had no idea what to say. If Catra was stressed, this probably wasn’t the best time to have the whole “what are we” talk. That was something better done in person, anyway. Adora filed it away as something they could discuss after the game, perhaps over a milkshake or two.

Catra stared down at the screen with one eyebrow raised, waiting for Adora to say something.

“Uh,” Adora hesitated. “Sweet dreams,” she blurted out.

Catra scoffed, but Adora definitely caught the hint of a blush in her cheeks. “Yeah, you too. Bye.”

Sweet dreams? What kind of rom-com crap was that? She very nearly let a particular three-word phrase slip out, but she backed off at the last second. The two times she’d said she loved Catra out loud, stress and impulse had gotten the better of her. The sentiment was out there, already spoken into existence, but thinking about saying it again made the words catch sideways in her throat. Sure, Catra had kissed her first, but she hadn’t exactly said it back. And she didn’t have to, of course. Especially if she didn’t feel it. Adora just wished that she could get a clear answer from her about whatever this was.

Adora considered how she might start the conversation. Being straightforward was her go-to way of addressing most situations, but this was just too scary. Not knowing how exactly Catra felt made Adora nervous, and that wasn’t an emotion that she experienced too often. Her tendency to overprepare usually guaranteed that she wouldn’t experience noticeable nerves on the day of a test or a game, but she couldn't very well make flashcards for her relationship. 

Over the course of the rest of the evening, Adora brainstormed possible ways to officially ask Catra out. They were all either very embarrassing for her or very embarrassing for Catra, and she decided that neither of those options was good.

By the time Adora went upstairs to sleep, she still hadn’t come up with anything decent. The impending skirmish scratched at the back of her mind, but Adora knew she was ready for that. Mostly. She’d been on the other end of Scorpia’s slap shots during that first week of practice at Hordak, and she wasn’t too thrilled at the prospect of repeating that experience. Bodyblocking Scorpia’s hits was like getting hit in the shin with a sledgehammer.

Oh, well. She couldn’t do anything about it now except rest and eat a good breakfast (cold pizza. It was cold pizza).

***

“Finally,” Catra said as she entered the visiting team’s locker room at Bright Moon. She’d actually bothered to get there before their final call time. Now that she was a captain, she figured showing a little initiative wouldn’t be such a bad idea. To exactly no one’s surprise, Scorpia was already there filling water bottles. Of course this pretentious-ass school had enough money to build and equip a whole separate space for people who didn’t even go here. They probably considered it a charitable tax write-off when anyone other than an upper-middle class debutante walked onto campus. She definitely hated this place--but not as much as their coach did. “Maybe Weaver will finally shut up for a while after this is over.”

“If we win,” Scorpia pointed out.

“Right. If we win.”

Scorpia frowned. “Well, don’t say it like that.”

Catra pulled her cleats out of her bag and stared at Scorpia incredulously. “I literally just repeated what you said.”

Scorpia picked up a bundle of sticks and slung it over her shoulder. “Yeah, but you sounded all pessimistic about it. We’re captains now, Catra. That means we have to be the rocks of this team. No goofing around, no distractions. No matter how tough this game’s gonna be for us.”

It was the first time Catra had ever heard Scorpia be serious. They’d probably had conversations before where Scorpia wasn’t cracking a joke a second, but this was the first time it clicked: Scorpia really cared about the Horde. She’d slid into the team and her leadership role so naturally that Catra forgot she was a transfer as of two weeks ago. From Bright Moon, no less. Given her immediate commitment to the team and everyone’s apparent love for her, maybe Coach Weaver had picked the right captain after all.

Catra nodded in agreement with Scorpia’s speech. They both had something to prove in this skirmish. To Catra, at least, it was more serious than a regulation game against any other team. This was her chance to show everyone that she could be someone without Adora holding her hand--and without hiding in Adora’s shadow. Catra deserved to be a captain just as much as Scorpia, and she wasn’t going to give Coach Weaver the chance to be disappointed. Ever again.

“Good thing you’re playing,” Catra commented as she laced up her cleats. “I’m pretty sure Adora’s terrified of you--”

 _“She is?”_ Scorpia sounded genuinely perturbed. “Oh, man. You gotta talk to her for me. I know the whole...” Scorpia gestured to herself, “is a little...” she growled pathetically. As if anybody who’d ever heard her open her mouth could be intimidated by her. “But you gotta fix it! Can ya fix it? Please?”

“--On the field,” Catra finished.

Scorpia let out a relieved exhale. “Thank goodness. You know, it’s funny. We’ve kinda got the same backstory. Except she moved because she got a scholarship and I left because...ah, doesn’t matter. Anyway, I really thought we bonded at that lockdown.”

“You mean when you ratted us out to Coach Weaver?”

“Yeah, good times,” Scorpia said dreamily. “Adora’s so cool. And smart. And isn’t she just a phenomenal goalie--”

“Shut it, Scorpia,” Catra cut in, unable to hide her irritation. The last thing she needed was her own teammates throwing a parade for the other team’s goalie right before they were supposed to go onto the field. Did Adora deserve a parade? Probably. But if anyone was throwing it, it would be Catra, and she’d do it after absolutely devastating the Bright Moon Rebels.

Scorpia, ever unfazed by Catra’s prickliness, reached for a tray of water bottles.

“You do Entrapta’s job for her now?” Catra asked.

Scorpia stopped short and tapped her chin with one finger, lost in thought. “Hang on. Didn’t Coach tell you? I’m not playing today. I thought that’s what she pulled you away for yesterday.”

“What?! You’re not playing?” Catra grabbed Scorpia by the shoulders, barely displacing her strong frame. “How are we supposed to beat Adora now?”

“You know there are...” Scorpia counted on her fingers, murmuring all of the field positions to herself in rapid succession, “a whole bunch of other people on the team, right?”

Catra released Scorpia from her grip with a mean push. “Whatever.”

“My arm’s all fixed up, but Coach Weaver wants me to take it easy so I’m ready for the game against Mystacor next weekend.”

“Doesn’t sound like like something she’d say,” Catra muttered. 

Scorpia put a hand on Catra’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, pal. I’m gonna right there on the bench cheering as loud as I can. Promise.”

“That’s really okay--”

 _“Promise.”_ Scorpia smacked her fist over the left side of her chest and then pointed to Catra.

As Scorpia left for the field, Catra could only think about the fact that she had to carry the team, alone, during the most important game of her life.

Half an hour later, the rest of the players had mostly arrived. Lonnie was running late, but she lived almost an hour from Bright Moon. Fortunately, she ran onto the field just in time for warmups.

Now the only person missing was...Coach Weaver. Where was she?

Catra ran her team through laps, dynamic stretches, and some light core exercises. The whole time she scanned the sidelines, searching for their coach, but all she saw was a couple of overenthusiastic parents. What could possibly be more important to Weaver than this game? She’d made it pretty clear that she cared way too much about it. Maybe it was some sort of element of surprise thing and she was planning on dropping in from the sky if they got first possession. Catra wouldn’t put it past her to go to such elaborate lengths to distract the other team.

Exactly two minutes before Bright Moon’s warmup time was supposed to start, Coach Weaver walked out of a nearby building. A thin, pastel-clad woman followed--she must have been Bright Moon’s coach. Catra wondered if the woman was normally that pale or if she was simply witnessing the Coach Weaver Effect from the outside for once.

When the Rebels emerged from their locker room, Catra immediately forgot that she was supposed to be counting for stretches. The enemy team ran out in one big, baby blue-and-white cluster, like a very determined cloud. In the middle of the cloud, Catra spotted Adora.

Ugh. Why did she have to look so good in that stupid uniform?

Catra cleared the field and had the team circle up. When Coach Weaver didn’t come over to them, Catra went to her. “Did you wanna say something to the team?”

“What would you have me say?” Coach Weaver snapped. “If your teammates do not know what to do by now, they have no business being here today.”

“You could have just said no,” Catra said to herself. She saw something in the coach’s eyes she hadn’t before. Fear. Clear as the sun in the sky above them. Catra reveled in the absolutely delicious knowledge, and then a pang of guilt struck her. Despite her calm demeanor after speaking with Bright Moon’s coach, something had shaken her up, and that couldn’t possibly be good for the team. If she was suddenly incapable of leading the Horde, then it was up to Catra to hold them together.

Catra crossed her arms. “Did you even prepare a lineup?”

Coach Weaver’s dilated eyes flitted between points of focus far too quickly. “Of course I did. I simply...left it elsewhere.”

Catra didn’t have enough self-control not to laugh. “I’ll handle it.” She started back to the team, but Coach Weaver caught her by the wrist.

“Do not ruin this,” Coach Weaver hissed.

Catra sneered and snatched her arm away. Without looking back, she returned to her team.

She looked around and the odd array of people surrounding her. They ranged in size and strength and skill from Scorpia all the way to Kyle, but they all had one common goal. Winning.

“Alright, nerds,” Catra started.

She saw Scorpia make a face.

“...Compatriots?” Catra tried again.

Scorpia shrugged. Good enough.

Catra shook it off. “This game’s our chance to show Bright Moon that we're not a joke.”

“Hang on, why’s Catra talking?” Lonnie interjected. She looked to Scorpia. “I thought that was your job.”

Catra glared at her. “Scorpia’s bench captain today, Lonnie. You wanna join her?”

Lonnie scowled.

“Anyway,” Catra went on, clasping her hands behind her back. As she paced, she got an idea. If she was calling the shots... “We’re not using Entrapta’s prototypes.”

“Did Coach Weaver say that?” Scorpia asked skeptically.

Catra considered lying, but what was the point? With the coach withdrawing into her own messed up headspace and Scorpia out of commission, Catra was technically in charge. Who was going to question her?

“No,” Catra stated firmly. “I said so.”

“Why?” Kyle piped up.

Catra shot his a furious look. “Kyle, you’re benched.”

“But I’m already on the bench.”

“Fine. Then go home.”

“Wha--”

“See how it doesn’t make sense to cripple your own team on purpose? Stay, Kyle.”

A few people muttered their assent.

Catra took a breath. She had their attention now. “New kids: this is your chance to prove that Coach Weaver didn’t screw up majorly by putting you on this team. Lonnie, you’re starting right forward.”

“Who’s in goal?” Lonnie asked, crossing her arms. “That’s my spot.”

“Lonnie, Lonnie, Lonnie,” Catra tutted. “How are we gonna win when our best shooter--besides Scorpia, of course--is as far away from the goal as possible? We need you on offense.”

Lonnie begrudgingly agreed.

“Rogelio, you’re in goal. I’ll take left forward...” She ran through the rest of the starting lineup, shuffling a few more people out of their usual positions to make up an offense-heavy squad.

Hordak won the coin toss and took first possession.

The first half of the game was surprisingly uneventful--neither team scored a single goal, and the Horde only made it past Bright Moon’s midline a handful of times. It was almost enough to make Catra change her stance on the uselessness of defensive drills. Halftime came, and Catra wasn’t even a little surprised when she saw a light blue blur getting closer in her peripheral vision.

A very sweaty, very red-faced Adora jogged up to her. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Catra answered. Not her best line, but she was in battle mode, not flirting mode.

“You guys are playing great.” Adora put her hands on her hips and caught her breath.

“Thanks,” Catra replied. She knew she should say it back, no matter how much she didn’t want to. “The Princesses aren’t total disappointments.” Close enough.

Adora snorted at that. When she took a step too close, Catra felt her focus flicker. “By the way,” Adora started, “can I buy you a milkshake later?”

“You can buy me a milkshake anytime,” Catra said, not even thinking.

“Great. I wanted to talk to you about something.” The lack of a smile on her face and the waver in her voice didn’t do much to soothe the sudden panic Catra felt in her chest.

Catra squinted at her, trying to stay cool at least on the outside. “Are you trying to be as ominous and vague as possible?”

“What? No. That’s not what I meant. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Whatever, Adora. Can we just focus on the game right now?”

“I--”

Entrapta interrupted them by shoving a water bottle into each of their hands. “Hydrate!” She screeched.

“Thanks, Entrapta,” Adora said. It was fairly obvious that something strange was going on. Catra did not like it one bit.

“Entrapta, go make sure everybody’s gear is in good shape for the second half,” Catra ordered. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt again.

“Hang on a second,” Adora insisted. “Did you just bark at our manager?”

“First of all, I don’t ‘bark.’ Second, she’s _my_ manager.”

Adora’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

Both of them turned to Entrapta. She looked between them, an awkward laugh bubbling up.

“Entrapta,” Adora said slowly. “What is she talking about?”

“Uhhhhhhh...” Entrapta continued her droning groan as she sidestepped out of the circle. She really was one of the strangest people Catra had ever met.

Unfortunately, with Entrapta gone, Adora focused her attention on Catra again. “Care to explain?”

“She just showed up at practice one day with some fancy new sticks,” Catra said. “It was weird, but, like...it’s Entrapta. Everything she does is weird.”

“Her sticks aren’t regulation. They’re literally illegal. Wait, you're not using them, are you?"

"Of course not!" 

"Still...why didn’t you tell me?” Adora’s voice broke, and Catra felt her own throat constrict at the sound.

“I tried to,” Catra managed.

“When?”

“At your house. You were being really distracting.”

“Real nice thing to say about your--whatever, Catra. I can’t believe you.” Adora took half a step away, but then she was back in Catra’s face. “You knew this would throw off our entire team’s mojo. Are you really that desperate to win?”

There it was. _That_ was how Adora really saw her. Desperate. Conniving. Bad.

But what exactly was so wrong about being willing to do whatever it took to reach a goal? Was it only wrong when Catra did it? She’d been raised with the belief that she’d have to claw her way to the top, and obviously that strategy had worked. She was a captain now. She’d earned Coach Weaver’s respect and trust, right? Who was Adora to tell her that she shouldn’t go after what she wanted? Isn’t that exactly what Adora had done by leaving?

Adora poked Catra’s chest. “You lied to me just so the Horde could have an unfair advantage. In a _skirmish_. This is low, even for you, Catra.”

Something in Catra snapped at that. If this was how Adora wanted to play it, then fine. Catra always, always won these sorts of games. “Aw,” Catra crooned, dragging a finger along Adora’s jaw and stopping at her chin. She leaned in closer until their lips were almost touching-- “Nothing’s too low for me.”

With a final smirk, Catra turned her back to Adora. She wasn’t going to look back for dramatic effect, but she hoped that Adora was just standing there, stunned into silence.

Catra hurried to find Entrapta in the last few minutes before halftime ended. She was chatting animatedly with Scorpia, who nodded emphatically at every word.

Catra tapped Entrapta on the shoulder. “Get me one of your prototypes.”

Entrapta’s face lit up. She scampered off.

“Whoa,” Scorpia broke in. “I thought you said--”

“Change of plans,” Catra growled. “I’m not losing this game.”

***

Something changed during the second half. Adora was plenty familiar with the Horde’s aggressive offensive style, but she’d made sure Bright Moon would be ready for it. So far the game was a stalemate, but the Horde’s forwards came out in the second half like they’d just been shot with adrenaline needles. Catra in particular seemed to have developed some sort of superhuman strength during the break, and Adora had a feeling it had nothing to do with Entrapta’s hydration agenda. Catra’s hits were harder, her shots went farther and spun unpredictably. It was like she was a whole new player, and Adora couldn’t keep up.

On the first play of the second half, Lonnie managed to steal the ball from Mermista and get all the way to Bright Moon’s midline before Sea Hawk and Glimmer cornered her. Lonnie made a risky pass back, and the third Horde forward--a new player who Adora didn’t recognize--got a lucky stop. He panicked and slapped the ball to Catra downfield.

With all but one defensive players distracted by Lonnie’s flanking, Catra had a wide open path to the goal. She easily faked out Bow, who was playing sweep for the first time. He wasn’t ready for her tricky tactics: she hit the ball right through his legs and spun to his left, catching the ball with her stick on the other side. Adora gritted her teeth.

Catra kept a steady pace as the Bright Moon defense closed in on her. Adora swore she could see an arrogant smile on her face--everything was going exactly how Catra wanted it to. It was like she could predict both teams' movements perfectly. Just as Glimmer came to Bow’s aid, Catra took her shot. She barely had any backswing in her technique, so only someone familiar with Catra’s form would have known that she was going for more than just another dribble.

Adora had to choose which side to defend. Catra would probably go for the cross and aim for Adora’s weaker side. Adora shuffled a step to her left and braced herself.

 _KLACK!_ The shot rang echoed across the field.

The ball flew towards the goal impossibly fast. It was headed for the left side--until it wasn’t. Catra’s shot spun mid-air and spiraled down towards the bottom-right corner of the goal.

Adora tried to correct and thrust her stick out to block, but it was too late. The ball nicked the top edge of the stick and bounced up into the net.

The referee’s whistle called for the reset. Bright Moon 0, Hordak 1.

Glimmer ran up to Adora in the goal. “Nice try. We’ll get ‘em next time!” She ran back to her position.

Adora tried to shake it off. If she let Catra get inside her head, the game was as good as over.

On the next play, Mermista got right up to the goal. Unfortunately, Rogelio blocked out almost the entire goal just by standing there, and Mermista’s shot bounced off his padding harmlessly. He clumsily knocked the ball back to the sweepers, and within seconds the Hordak forwards were pushing Bright Moon’s defense again.

Adora got set. She watched Catra bring the ball just past the half line. Lonnie shouted that she was open, but Catra was clearly not about to give up another shot. While Lonnie called out, Catra body checked Perfuma at just the right angle so that the ref couldn’t see her throw an elbow. Adora saw it, though. Catra was playing dirty, but she was still playing smart. When they were on the same team, Adora hadn’t spoken out against it because she benefitted from Catra’s playstyle. Now she understood just how frustrating it was to play against someone who knew they were cheating and getting away with it.

Catra rushed the goal again, blowing past Bow and heading straight for Glimmer. It was an aggressive move, and as she picked up speed her intention became clear: she was going to run straight into Glimmer if she didn’t get out of the way. Glimmer waited until the last possible second and sidestepped, her back to the goal. Catra knocked the ball backwards, and Lonnie was there to pick it up.

Adora was ready this time. The ball came hurtling at her. Lonnie’s shots didn’t spin, and they were slow and heavy compared to Catra’s. Adora caught the ball squarely against her stomach padding.

She could practically hear Catra’s snarl. “Come on, Lonnie,” she growled.

“Catra, ball,” Lonnie reminded her.

It was still in play, and Adora hadn’t passed it back to anyone yet. Lonnie was on Glimmer and Catra was on Bow, and Perfuma had retreated back past the 25-yard line, scared off.

Adora didn’t have any options. She could go for the space between Lonnie and Catra, but there was a good chance one of them would recover the ball. Catra was definitely faster than any of Bright Moon’s defensive squad.

Overthinking cost Adora her one opening. Lonnie broke away from Glimmer to cover the space just as Catra surged forward--straight towards the goal.

***

Catra knew she was in Adora’s head thanks to their little exchange at halftime. She could tell that Adora was trying to anticipate their next move, but that gave Catra just enough time to react. She sprinted for the ball.

Adora panicked and tried to get the ball away from the goal, but Lonnie was perfectly positioned for the stop. Catra tried to pivot back--and she felt something in her ankle give out. She’d been so distracted with her newfound authority that she’d forgotten to brace it before the game, and now this stupid injury was coming back to haunt her.

If she went down, they’d lose their chance. She fumbled her stick, hoping to catch herself with it before she fell into the grass. And--

_KRACK!_

The sound didn’t come from a hit. Catra’s stick snapped in half.

It was the opposite fo a clean break; splinters of resin and fiberglass flew like shrapnel from a bomb. Adora forgot about the game for a split-second as soon as she saw.

“Catra!” She called out.

Catra tried to roll onto her shoulder as she fell, hoping that she would be able to avoid most of the sharp debris. She landed on her side, facing the goal.

Lonnie took the opportunity to strike. _KLACK._ Adora heard the sound just too late, her eyes leaving Catra and widening when she saw the ball flying at her.

With a sickening crack, the ball smashed into Adora’s helmet. Catra watched as Adora crumpled in the goal. The ball hit the grass and rolled across the line. Bright Moon 0, Hordak 2.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M   
> SO   
> SORRY
> 
> it was my birthday yesterday so i spent it writing the absolute angstiest chapter yet...i swear to god this is the worst it gets. me @ me while writing this: you absolute m o n s t e r
> 
> anyway love u guys see u next week <3


	15. Chapter 15

Adora’s eyelids felt like they weighed about a thousand pounds--each. As she slowly blinked awake, she expected to be greeted by the familiar face of her digital alarm clock. Instead of the angry, red numbers, she saw a silver-inlaid analog clock that had probably been stolen from the 19th century by a time traveling rogue. The soothing ticking of the elegantly carved hands (why were there so many?) was almost enough to make her gloss over the fact that it was--

“11:34?!” Adora exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. She never slept this late, but the fact that her brain was rattling around inside her skull made her want to stay in bed even longer. “Ugh...” she groaned as she flopped back onto the baby blue pillow.

She rolled over to look at the fancy clock again. Even in her haze, Adora knew two things: this was not her bed, and whoever did own this bed, this room, and this house had an excellent sense of interior design.

As if Adora had summoned her telepathically, Glimmer appeared through a crack in the door.

“You’re up!” Glimmer said, clearly relieved.

“Is this what a hangover feels like?” Adora asked, attempting to sit up again. The accompanying head rush inspired the most profound sense of regret she’d ever experienced. Nope, sitting up wasn’t going to happen right now. Not worth it.

Glimmer rushed to her side and propped a pillow behind Adora’s back. “How are you feeling?”

“Spinny,” Adora replied. “And hungry. I think. Maybe nauseous. Oh, yeah. Definitely nauseous.”

“My mom made waffles if you want one. They’re a little cold, but we can warm them up.”

Adora looked around the bedroom again. Perfectly organized, pastel purple walls, posters of magical anime girls, a couple of weird antiques. Of course this was Glimmer’s room. It was like her personality had thrown up on the walls. In the best way, of course.

“Your room’s really nice.” Adora said. “But why am I here again?”

“My mom called your parents. We didn't want you to be alone after--wait, you don’t remember?” Glimmer panicked. “Quick, what’s my name? What’s _your_ name? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Uh, Glimmer, Adora, and zero.”

Glimmer looked down at her hands, which were clenched in tight fists at her sides. “...Right. You pass.”

Adora forced herself to sit up a little straighter. “Seriously, though. Why am I here? I don’t know what happened.”

“Really?” Glimmer sat on the edge of the bed, one leg folded up atop the sheets so that she could face Adora better. “Do you remember the game yesterday?”

Adora tapped her chin for a moment. “Last I know, I was trying to block Lonnie’s shot...then Catra--” Adora’s eyes went wide. “Is Catra okay?!”

Glimmer huffed. “You asked that about a hundred times yesterday. She’s not the one who got carried off the field on a stretcher.”

“Eh, not the first time.” Adora waved it off, ignoring the look on Glimmer’s face that made her look like an alarmed deer.

“You’ve had a concussion before?” Glimmer asked.

“I have a concussion?!”

“So that’s a no.”

“Glimmer!”

“You didn’t even have to stay overnight at the hospital! It’s very mild.”

“You could have led with that,” Adora took a breath and settled a little. “Guess that explains why I thought there were six hands on your clock.”

“Oh, there are.” Glimmer pointed to the clock. “One is set to our time zone, and the other is for where my dad is now. He made it for me when I was little.”

Adora sat up a little more, hoping that a conversation about literally anything else might help her forget the churning feeling in her stomach. “Where does he live?”

“Oh, um...he died when I was six.” Glimmer was somber for a moment. “I don’t get to visit him a lot since he’s buried far away, but we go at least once a year.” When she visibly forced herself to perk up, Adora felt a tug inside her chest. Glimmer was always trying so hard for others’ benefit. “It was a long time ago. And those waffles aren’t going to eat themselves.”

“You’re right. Bow will.”

Glimmer laughed as she helped Adora to her feet. Adora decided to shelve the topic of Glimmer’s dad for a later day, preferably one when her brain didn’t feel like mush. When Glimmer was ready to talk about it without putting up walls, she would do so.

Adora had been joking about Bow eating all the waffles, but sure enough there he was in the kitchen picking at a half-empty plate. When he saw Adora up and about, his smile brightened like a sunrise.

“Adora!”

Glimmer leaned closer, still supporting some of Adora’s weight. “He refused to leave until we knew you were okay. Then he sort of fell asleep on our couch.”

Bow got up and ran over to Adora. Before he wrapped her in what was definitely going to be a devastating bear hug, he paused. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“Just don’t squeeze my brain out of my ears,” Adora said.

Bow pulled her into a gentle embrace. “That’s really gross, but I forgive you for ruining waffle time.” He let go and returned to the table. Before even sitting, he crammed half of his remaining breakfast into his mouth, barely chewed, and gulped it down. “Just kidding. _Nothing_ could ruin waffle time. You want one?”

Before Adora could answer, Glimmer shepherded her to the table and slapped a waffle onto a plate. “Glad to see your appetite’s back, Bow.”

He flashed a thumbs up. “I think your mom’s a magician.”

Glimmer turned to Adora. “We also have fruit, toast, almond butter, cream cheese and lox, but no bagels. And eggs. I could make you some eggs. Ooh, and Nutella. Not for the eggs. Unless that’s your thing, in which case we have eggs and Nutella,” Glimmer offered. Her eager smile was impossibly sweet, and on any other day Adora would have jumped at the chance to consume such a breakfast. Her stomach was growling audibly, but after simple walking made her woozy she wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea of eating. Still, she couldn’t bear to break Glimmer’s generous heart.

“Fruit sounds great,” Adora said, choosing the option least likely to induce further nausea.

Once Glimmer returned to the table with some perfectly cubed fruit, the three of them dug in. Adora was disappointed that she couldn’t keep up with their ravenous waffle consumption, but she decided that today was maybe not the day to get competitive about it.

“What happened with the game?” Adora asked. “Did we win?”

Bow shook his head. “They called it after you and that Horde girl went down.”

“Catra?” Adora tried to push down the rising fear in her chest. There wasn’t much she could do if Catra was injured...and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. They fought. Catra made her choice. She cheated, and it bit her in the--

“No, the other girl,” Bow said. “The one whose shot hit you. The ball bounced off your helmet and got her right in the knee.”

Glimmer swallowed a bite of food. “I still can’t believe three people got hurt on one play. In a skirmish.”

“I think a lot of us were treating it more like a championship game,” Adora admitted. “I know I was.”

“No such thing as ‘friendly competition,’” Bow added.

Glimmer nodded. “At least this is finally over. Now hopefully my mom will be able to get some sleep. And we can focus on what really matters: homecoming!”

Adora almost faceplanted in her food right then. The absolute last thing she wanted to think about was a dance. “Ugh. No offense, Glimmer, but loud music and people bumping into me does not sound great right now.”

“Of course,” Glimmer said. “No problem.” Her voice was a little too high-pitched.

Adora narrowed her eyes. “Glimmer?”

“What did you do?” Bow asked equally suspiciously.

“I miiiiight have signed us all up for the planning committee.” Glimmer presented the idea with timid jazz hands as if it would soften the blow.

Adora groaned, but Bow beamed.

“Does this mean we can overturn the cowboy theme?” Bow was practically bouncing in his seat.

“That’s the plan, Bow. That’s the plan,” Glimmer said in that faux-serious voice that rarely failed to make Adora snicker. At this moment, though, there was nothing funny about the situation.

Adora cut in. “Guys, I don’t even know how to dance. I don’t even want to go to homecoming, let alone plan it.”

“That’s why you’re on snacks,” Glimmer said. “We’re playing to everyone’s strengths here.”

“Plus,” Bow started, “It might, you know...help you get your mind off things.”

“Things?” Adora repeated.

Glimmer put her hand on Adora’s. “We all overheard what happened at halftime.”

Adora’s face flushed. “Oh.” She should talk to Catra, right? But everything that happened at the skirmish--Adora couldn’t even think about it.

“I don’t want to pry, but is there something going on with you and Catra?” Glimmer asked tentatively.

“I wish I knew.” Adora dropped her head onto the table. She was always the one initiating the talks, the hangouts. The ‘I love yous.’ It was exhausting, and Adora didn’t know if she had the energy to keep it up much longer. “I mean, some stuff happened, but--”

Bow interrupted immediately. _“Stuff happened?”_

“Oh. Yeah. We kissed a couple times.”

Both Bow and Glimmer’s jaws dropped. They stared at her blankly for a second before--

“You didn’t tell us?” Glimmer yelled, throwing her arms into the air.

Bow’s deep inhale warned that he was about to ask a whole lot of questions, and Adora couldn’t come up with a way to stop him in time.

“What happened? Did my advice convince you? Are you dating now? Ooh, are you bringing her to homecoming? Can we take pictures together? Wait, was the fight bad? Like, no more homecoming bad?” He paused to gasp. “Like breakup bad? And _how could you not tell us?”_

Adora wondered if it was possible for all of the blood in her body to rush into her cheeks at the same time.

“Sorry,” Bow said. His eyes lit up with stars. “I love love. I’m happy for you.”

“Well, don’t be. I don’t even know if it’s still a thing.”

Did Catra even care anymore? Was this all just another game to her? Once Catra won games, she quickly grew bored of them. She was like that when they were little, too. It was the same whether they were playing for pieces of candy or something much more valuable, and as much as Adora hated to admit it, Catra had very much won this time. Adora’s heart was nothing more than her trophy.

Maybe that was why Catra had never said she loved Adora back.

“I don’t know if it ever really was.” Adora’s admission was so quiet that she wondered if anyone but her waffle had heard.

“Don’t say that,” Bow said.

“But it’s true,” Adora retorted.

“Why?” Glimmer asked.

“Because it has to be!” Adora’s voice cracked. “I went to the hospital and she hasn’t even texted me to see if I’m okay. Why else would she be acting like this?”

Bow shrugged sympathetically. “People do all sorts of things for weird reasons.”

“Well, your phone has kind of been dead since yesterday,” Glimmer said, taking Adora’s phone out of her back pocket. "So technically you don't know if she texted you or not."

“Glimmer. Give it to me.” Adora’s tone was somewhere between a warning and a threat.

“You’re not supposed to look at screens,” Glimmer protested.

As stupid as it made Adora feel, she needed to know if Catra had tried to reach out. Not that it would change anything (she hoped it would).

Without thinking about the potential concussive repercussions, Adora lunged at Glimmer and reached for the phone. Glimmer practically vanished in thin air, ducking out of Adora’s way and tossing the phone to Bow.

“Don’t bring me into this!”

When Adora lunged at him, he threw the phone out of the room. Adora heard a very distinct cracking sound.

“Bow,” she said sternly.

“I’m sorry! I panicked.” He bit at the nails on his left hand.

Glimmer went to retrieve the phone. The screen was splintered. “Great.”

Adora shot a glare in Bow’s direction and he slumped in his seat.

“I’ll go plug this in and see if it’s still alive at all. Entrapta can probably fix the screen no sweat,” Glimmer tried, patting Adora on the shoulder and went to kitchen to plug the phone into a charger.

Bow tilted his head to the side as he looked at Adora. “It’s confusing, huh?”

“What? I’m not confused. I just have no idea what I’m feeling and I don’t really want to think about it but I also can’t stop thinking about it.” Adora paused. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Are you mad?” He asked.

“Yes. Maybe. I think so. But mostly about the illegal stick thing.”

“Do you want to talk to her?”

“Always.” Another pause. “But I don’t know if she wants to talk to me.”

Glimmer returned to the table.

“So...maybe dance planning will be good,” Bow said, circling back. “At least it might distract you from whatever’s happening or not happening with Catra until she figures out what she wants to do.”

There had to be a way out of the homecoming committee. Adora kept trying. “I just don’t know if I can handle another thing on top of school and practices.”

Bow and Glimmer looked at each other with the same face two parents make before they tell their child their pet hamster ‘moved away.’

“What?” Adora asked.

Glimmer squeezed Adora’s hand tighter. “The doctor thinks you should take some time off.”

“From school?”

“From field hockey,” Bow clarified. “And like Glimmer said, you should strictly limit screen time in order to avoid aggravating your symptoms.”

Adora raised an eyebrow at his strangely formal language.

“I read a bunch of pamphlets at the hospital,” he blushed.

Adora couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have them. Bow and Glimmer had been unbelievably kind to Adora since her arrival at Bright Moon. They’d accepted her right away, and after only two weeks they were willing to spend an afternoon in the hospital to make sure she was alright? Helping them plan a dance that they obviously cared so much about was really the least she could do. And it didn’t mean she had to go to it.

Adora looked up at them and forced a little smile. “Do I get an official Snack Coordinator badge?”

“Yes!” Glimmer exclaimed. “I can totally make you one.”

Maybe homecoming committee wouldn’t be such a disaster after all.

***

Coach Weaver had called an emergency Sunday practice, but she couldn’t technically make it mandatory. Catra had strongly considered not showing up, but that would surely endanger her shiny new captain’s status.

So, for what felt like the hundredth time this season, Catra was on the bench watching her teammates flail around on the field. The school nurse had given her official orders to stay off her ankle until it was fully recovered. She was supposed to be using a crutch in order to assist in the healing process, but there was no way she was going to risk bringing it to practice. At the very least, Coach Weaver would probably have something to say about how foolish she was to play on such an injury. She’d put her whole team at risk because of her ego, and other people had gotten hurt because of it.

Given everything that Catra had done during the skirmish, she definitely didn’t deserve to be out on the field. What kind of captain made such stupid decisions?

She kept thinking about the argument at halftime--Adora knew exactly how to push Catra’s buttons. Everything she said seemed specifically plotted to poke at Catra’s most vulnerable spots, see right through any walls she put up. And the worst part? Adora still didn’t realize that she could do that. She was so blunt and matter-of-fact about things that it made Catra’s skin crawl sometimes. How could she stand to be so open, especially about her feelings? In Catra’s experience, that was dangerous. There was a good reason animals didn’t make a point of showing off their underbellies.

Catra still hadn’t heard from Adora since the game. The hospital had kicked her out after a few hours, and she’d never gotten to see if Adora was okay. She didn’t know what she would say when they got the chance to talk, but she was still terrified that something had secretly gone horribly wrong. What if Adora woke up and didn’t remember anything? What if she remembered _everything_ and never wanted to talk to Catra again? There really wasn’t a good outcome here...

Coach Weaver drifted over to the bench. Instead of being calmer after the skirmish, it seemed that the incomplete game had only raised her stress levels. She was entirely unkempt, her hair an unwashed mess and her clothes wrinkled as if she’d thrown them out of the dryer too early.

“Your jersey,” Coach Weaver started. “Where is it?

“Uh, the wash,” Catra said. “It’s kind of got grass stains everywhere.”

Coach Weaver paused, and Catra swore she saw her eye twitch. “You should have brought it.”

“No one else is wearing their uniforms,” Catra countered.

“Not to wear. To return.”

Catra wasn’t sure she heard that right. “What?”

“Unfortunately, the captain’s patches are difficult to remove, so you will be assigned a new number.”

“A new...?” The rest of her sentence died in her throat. She forced herself to say something. “But we won. We were up 2-0 when the game ended.”

“That was no victory. It was a catastrophe at best,” Coach Weaver countered. “And you are to blame.”

“Aren’t I always?” Catra searched for the familiar fire that lit up in her chest whenever she and Coach Weaver got to this point in their banter, but it was nowhere to be found. Her urge to fight back had vanished without a trace.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boi we've crossed 50k words which makes this officially The Longest Thing I've Ever Written!
> 
> consider this a sort of "part 1" combined with the next chapter. i wanted to combine them into one longer one, but unfortunately didn't have time to finish the second part by today. so hope this is enough to tide you over :p
> 
> ALSO, if you feel like following me on tumblr, i just made a new account, somnambule-plus. i'll post updates for this story over there as well as my other stuff! love you aaaaaaall <3 <3


	16. Chapter 16

Adora’s phone had almost as hard a time waking up as Adora had earlier that morning. It took a full ten minutes for it to even light up, and as soon as the screen brightened, Glimmer insisted that Adora look away. She and Bow would graciously read any messages out loud. Adora really hoped there wasn’t anything incriminating in her recent conversations with her...whatever Catra was at this point.

Bow reported back two voicemails from Adora’s parents. They’d be home as soon as possible, they were so happy she’d found such kind friends at Bright Moon, and they loved her very much. Perfuma had made a team group text (including Entrapta--she still felt bad about snapping at her in the locker room) so that Glimmer could keep them updated, and there were easily over a hundred messages in the thread already. Glimmer summarized: someone asked for an update about every thirty seconds while they were at the hospital, but once everyone knew Adora was stable, the chat pretty much became a meme group. Now they were debating what kind of pizza they’d all be.

“Tell them I’d be a classic pepperoni,” Adora chimed in.

Bow’s opinion differed. “Have you seen the way you look at Catra? You’re definitely _extra_ _cheese.”_

That earned him a glare from Glimmer.

“Sorry. Touchy subject, I know. Couldn't resist.”

Adora just smiled at him.

As Glimmer continued to recap the many messages from their Bright Moon classmates, Adora felt her stomach tighten. She didn’t want to outright _ask_ if there was anything from Catra. If she did, it might come off a little...desperate. Maybe there weren’t any messages from her and Glimmer was purposefully spending as much time as possible going through every other conversation to spare Adora’s feelings for a few more minutes.

Finally, Bow put a hand on Glimmer’s shoulder. “As much as I want to hear about Mermista’s strong opinions on olives, I think it can wait ‘til later.”

“Fair point.” Glimmer conceded.

“No, that’s okay,” Adora broke in. Maybe she didn’t exactly want to find out the answer to the question knotting her stomach. “I love olives.”

“Don’t tell Mermista that,” Bow warned.

Adora reached for the phone. “Can I just look for one second?”

Glimmer protested. “Adora--”

“Just one. Please."

Glimmer sighed and handed her the phone.

Adora navigated as quickly as possible. Finally she saw the little little blue dot next to Catra’s name and a single message:

 **Catra (Saturday, 7:10 pm)** \- _are you alive?_

Glimmer snatched the phone back.

Adora chased her hand. “Hey!”

“That was a full six seconds.”

Bow tapped his wrist where a watch might sit. “It’s true. I timed it.”

“Fine,” Adora huffed. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “Will you at least text her back and tell her I’m okay? She’s probably freaking out. I mean, just look at that message. When she’s upset, she gets really quiet. One time when we were thirteen we snuck into a horror movie and she was so freaked out that she barely talked for two hours after.”

“Hey. We know she cares.” Bow probably meant it to be reassuring, but Adora couldn't wondering who she'd been trying to convince. 

Glimmer started typing. “I’ve got it, Adora. Go lie down.”

“But I’m fine--”

“Go. Lie. Down. It’s mandatory rest time.”

For the next twenty minutes, Adora stared up at Glimmer’s living room ceiling and tried very hard not to think about anything. She almost wished she’d gotten a worse head injury so that she wouldn’t have to put so much effort into shutting her brain off. So this concussion was bad enough to get her overcautiously banned from all fun, but not enough to keep her from worrying about everything? Seriously inconvenient. How was she supposed to distract herself from the maelstrom of unresolved emotions swirling in her chest if she couldn’t even watch TV?

In the wake of her pathetically small breakfast, Adora started feeling hungry again. Just as she was about to ask Glimmer about the possibility of ordering some comfort food from her favorite noodle place, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Glimmer called from upstairs.

Adora heard her speed down the stairs. The door opened--and then there was a weird moment of silence. The door closed again too quickly, prompting Adora to peel herself off the couch and peek into the hallway.

“Glimmer?”

No one was there.

Adora took a few steps toward the door just as Bow came downstairs.

“Did you guys order food or something?” She asked, hoping the answer would be yes.

He just shrugged.

Muffled voices came from outside. Adora assumed that one of them belonged to Glimmer, but she couldn’t actually hear well enough to confirm--

The door swung open. Glimmer marched back inside with a little scowl on.

“I want you to know I had nothing to do with this,” she said, pointing to Adora.

“Nothing to do with...”

Adora’s eyes drifted to the figure stepping in from the porch.

Of course. Who else would show up uninvited to a complete stranger’s house?

“Hey, Adora.” Catra refused to meet her eye. One of her arms was slung across her chest, grasping her opposite elbow like it was the only tether keeping her from sprinting back out the door.

Bow started retreating up the stairs. “We’re just gonna leave you guys alone--”

“Catra, what the hell?!” Adora stormed right up to her.

That familiar pair of mismatched eyes stared back, wide and red-rimmed.

Adora pushed past the observation but shaved the edge off her voice. “How did you get here?”

“I drove, dummy,” Catra mumbled. The softer-than-usual nickname definitely did not make Adora’s heart trip over itself. “Entrapta got me the address.”

Glimmer crossed her arms. “You could have just asked me.”

Catra’s face made it very clear that she hadn’t thought of that option.

Bow cleared his throat loudly.

With one last stern look at Catra, Glimmer followed him. “We’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

Catra barely glanced up as the unwilling hostess left.

Just over twenty-four hours ago, Adora would have been thrilled to be alone with Catra, especially if whatever they were doing didn’t involve a whole lot of talking. Part of her just wanted to wrap up in Catra’s arms under too many blankets and press sloppy kisses to her jaw until they both fell asleep. That’s what they usually did when one of them was sick, minus the kissing. Adora had always wanted to try it, though, and it was a cruel cosmic joke that she’d so narrowly missed her window. Now the thought of speaking to Catra at all made Adora feel like she was trying to swallow an entire piece of dry bread in one bite.

“Why are you here?” She managed.

Catra’s eyes shone. “I heard everything was fine, but...I wanted to see you.”

Well. Catra certainly a knack for picking the worst possible moments to finally open up.

“So?” Catra asked.

“I’m fine,” Adora said flatly, knowing that she was only answering the easiest of Catra’s many implied inquiries. She remembered her own burning question from the day before and reflexively scanned her eyes over Catra’s body, checking for any signs of injury. Nothing jumped out at her. “You seem okay.”

"Not quite." Catra pulled up the leg of her sweatpants just slightly. Her leg was wrapped almost up to the bottom of her calf, and Adora noticed that she wasn’t putting any weight on that foot.

Instead of asking, she waited for Catra to explain.

“So, yeah. I’m not playing for a while.”

“Good,” Adora said, failing to conceal the razor-sharp edge in her voice.

Catra recoiled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you probably shouldn’t. Because of your ankle.” _Because you cheated_. 

“Scorpia wants me to take a break.”

Adora nodded once. “That’s smart.”

“I could still play if I wanted to,” Catra argued.

Adora snorted. “Of course. It wouldn’t matter if you broke both of your arms or if your entire team didn’t bother to show up. You’d still play. If you don’t play, you can’t win. Congrats on the skirmish, by the way. Captain.” 

Catra snapped at that. “What’s your problem?”

 _“My_ problem? You’re the one who’s obsessed with winning! You put yourself--your _teammates_ \--in actual danger! Well, you did it. Great news, Catra: you finally got what you wanted.”

The growl in Catra’s chest only fueled Adora’s tirade.

“I bet Coach Weaver’s really proud.”

Adora regretted it immediately when she saw how quickly Catra’s rage melted away and welled up again in angry tears. Someday maybe Adora would find a way to control the stupid mirror reflex that made her start crying whenever Catra did.

“Catra, I’m sorry. That wasn’t--”

Catra flinched away before Adora could even reach for her. “Don’t.”

Without another word, Catra stepped back out onto the porch and let the door click shut behind her.

Adora just stared at the door. She might have stood there for a few seconds, a few minutes, an hour. All she knew was that her face was too warm and her hands were too cold and her heart was beating too hard for something that was empty.

A gentle hand on her shoulder threatened to pull her out of her trance, but she couldn’t let that happen. If she moved--blinked--it would all become real. As soon as she left this spot, it would hit her like an airbag in a car crash. Her mind would endlessly replay that fight with Catra, dissecting every word and tone and tic. She’d reach the same conclusion every time: whatever they had was finally broken. It had been inevitable, really. Adora had dived in headfirst and let herself sink all the way to the bottom of the pool, and Catra had barely dipped one foot in the water. Opposites were supposed to attract, Adora thought. For so long she’d embraced Catra’s impulsive, snarky, flirtatious nature as complementary to her own. But how long could two different trains run parallel to each other without diverging or colliding? As long as she stayed in this haze, Adora thought, she’d never have to see the other set of tracks veer off and disappear.

“Adora?” Glimmer spoke her name carefully, quietly.

It was enough to snap Adora out of it, and the impossibly heavy weight of it all settled on her shoulders. She wiped at her eyes with the cuffs of her sleeves. As soon as they were dry, another wave of tears sprung up like camouflaged soldiers lying in wait. She supposed there was really no point in trying to hide it.

Bow put his arm around Adora’s shoulders and coaxed her up the stairs. Glimmer suggested that they gather extra blankets to build a “snuggle nest” on her bed. Adora wanted to smile at that, but moving her face at all was sure to crack the precarious dam that was keeping her from screaming and sobbing. Eventually, she croaked out a request for some time to herself. Glimmer left the blankets behind just in case, and Adora very much did end up curling up in a snuggle nest (it made crying for an hour straight a little less awful).

***

The front door of Glimmer’s house clicked shut behind Catra. Had it been this cold outside earlier? As she hugged herself and walked to the car, Adora’s words echoed in her mind.

_I bet Coach Weaver’s really proud._

When had that become the most important thing to her? Adora was right; it was an obsession. Why hadn't Catra noticed it taking over, creeping into her every thought and action? 

Over the next week, Catra didn’t go a single day without skipping a class. Usually it was just one--math--but she wasn’t above skipping the line-by-line deconstruction of Hamlet’s famous soliloquy in English.

She wasn’t above anything, she reminded herself. Maybe that was all she’d proved.

Practices were a whole lot less interesting from the bench, as she re-discovered on Monday, and so she stopped going to them, too. Coach Weaver probably wasn’t going to let her play for the rest of the season as some sort of punishment disguised as concern for her ankle, so what was the point? Why bother learning a whole bunch of plays if she wasn't running them or calling the shots? Each time she missed, she received a couple of concerned texts from Scorpia, but even Hordak’s friendliest/most unwittingly intrusive student seemed to be avoiding starting a conversation in person. _Good,_ Catra thought. Even so, she couldn't help but notice that her general irritation towards Scorpia wasn't prickling the hair on her arms. 

Unfortunately, missing math class all week meant that Catra accidentally skipped a test. Mr. Henshaw gave her a chance to make it up after school on Thursday, and Catra jumped at the opportunity. Normally she felt nothing but roiling fury at anything that included random numbers and made-up equations, but this gave her an extra reason not to go to practice.

She spent almost an hour on the test but still didn't answer two of the questions. They were probably related to material she hadn’t been in class to learn, and no way was she going to read her textbook. 

When she got up to hand the test back to Henshaw, he paged through the packet and noticed that the last page was mostly blank. She expected a disappointed sigh or a halfhearted lecture, but what he did was so much worse. He just set his mouth in a tight line, looked at her, and shook his head. It took her a moment to recognize the look, but it was the same one teachers had given her after she’d returned to school after that car accident back in second grade: pity. She hated it, but she couldn’t bring herself to snap at Mr. Henshaw when he’d given her an extra ten minutes _and_ stayed after school just so that she could make up her exam.

“You don’t want to try on these last few?” He asked, offering her test back.

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p,’ hoping it would punctuate her response firmly enough that he wouldn’t continue pushing.

Of course, it didn’t work. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. They don’t make sense.”

“Ah, but that’s the beautiful thing about math. Even if a problem seems confusing at first, you can always solve it. When you get stuck, you just have to think about it a little differently.” She’d never seen his eyes light up so brightly. Could _math_ really make people this happy? “Sometimes it takes a little while, but eventually it becomes clear that there’s only one potential answer. Or a set of answers, if you want to get technical about it.”

“I definitely don’t,” Catra grumbled reflexively.

His words stuck with her over the next few days. To her horror, she found herself thinking about that math test over the weekend. Saturdays and Sundays were supposed to be sacred days without numbers and teachers trying to teach her useless lessons...but maybe this one wasn’t so pointless after all.

She’d been so insecure about things with Adora, terrified that she’d screw things up, that she’d practically guaranteed their explosive fight. Now, a week later, she didn’t have the energy to cry about it anymore, and that exhaustion brought clarity. Her real problem didn’t have anything to do with Adora. Sure, their relationship was a total mess that pancakes definitely couldn’t fix, but it wasn’t the root of the issue. When she finally figured it out, she knew there was only one solution. Despite everything else, after skipping four field hockey practices, Catra felt lighter than she had in weeks. 

On Monday, she returned to the pitch promptly at 3:30. She marched (alright, limped with purpose) right up to the circle after warmup and stepped into the middle of it. Everyone was watching--and it didn’t matter.

She looked Coach Weaver straight in the eye and put on her steeliest snarl.

“I quit.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catra did it bois, she finally did it
> 
> lisTEN i'm sorry about the angst but i promise the worst is over <3 <3 before anyone gets mad about this chapter: casual reminder that i'm a sucker for happy endings.
> 
> the homecoming dance is coming up *WINK WINK*


	17. Chapter 17

Coach Weaver’s new office chairs must have been deliberately designed to be as uncomfortable as possible. They were made of a solid, slippery metal, and they hungrily absorbed all the cold air bleeding into the room through the vents. Thanks to the rounded seat back, Catra had to constantly fidget just to sit up.

“Can we get this over with?” Catra asked flippantly. Now that she was off the team, she had no desire to hang around school after classes.

Coach Weaver stood behind her desk and stared through one of the side walls, speechless and motionless, like her rage was still buffering.

Before, that tactic would have worked on Catra. As the silence grew, she might have gotten more nervous and fidgeted for reasons beyond simply staying put in her seat.

Now, Catra was just annoyed. She waved her arms around and nearly fell off the chair. “Hello? Earth to Coach Weaver?”

All she got in response was a deep sigh.

Catra stood up. “Whatever. There’s a stack of pancakes calling me. Have fun staring at the wall.” When she reached the door, she finally heard her former coach’s voice.

“Just a moment.”

Something pulled Catra away from the door. It made her stomach churn, knowing that she still wasn’t entirely free of this cruel influence.

“Sit, Catra.”

Catra stayed by the door and crossed her arms. “Your chairs suck.”

Red flashed in Coach Weaver’s eyes. She would typically reprimand Catra for such crass language. Silently, Coach Weaver took her own seat behind her desk.

It took more willpower than Catra anticipated to keep from following suit. Looking down at the coach was uncomfortable to say the least--but Catra noticed, for the first time, how small the woman was. Bony shoulders, thin frame, hollow cheekbones.

“I wish you’d spoken with me before making such a public announcement,” Coach Weaver said, tapping her fingertips together.

Catra scoffed. “So you could change my mind?”

“You've upset your teammates.”

Catra paused before responding. If she was going to get through this, she had to keep a clear head and avoid her knee-jerk instinct to yell back and start a fight. No matter how much she wanted to shout ‘You’re a shit coach’ in Weaver’s face, she knew it wouldn’t help get her out of here any faster. Coach Weaver would probably just write her a detention slip for the rest of the season’s duration and force her to serve it by staying on the team. Instead, Catra took inventory of what she was feeling: was she actually upset? Yes, but only because she was stuck in this stupid office.

“Why am I here?” Catra asked. “This is a colossal waste of time.”

“Hardly,” Coach Weaver countered. “Don’t you know how important you are to this team?”

“Uh, what?”

“The other players, they rely on you. They look up to you. They respect you.”

“If that’s true, why aren’t I still a captain?”

Coach Weaver stood again and started pacing behind her desk. Her fingers curled around a fistful of air in front of her. “You make my job difficult. Why do you insist on going against everything I say?”

“I tried to win--like you said--and you punished me for it,” Catra said. She kept her voice steady despite the feeling that her larynx was trying to jump right out of her throat.

That got her another furious glare. “Insolent as always.”

Catra rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Get some new insults.”

“Insults?” Coach Weaver slowly circled around from behind her desk. “This is not some childish game of name-calling. I expect you to be better. All of you. The Horde has never been stronger than it is now under my leadership and that is undeniable.”

“See, I don’t know,” Catra feigned contemplation, tapping her chin as sarcastically as she could. “Does an almost perfect record _really_ matter if we just can’t win against the only team you actually care about beating?”

Coach Weaver was right in front of Catra now, seething. They were nearly on eye level with each other--had she always been this short?

Catra continued. “You know this is a high school sport, right? We’re supposed to be playing a game.”

“I push because I care!” Coach Weaver shouted, dragging out each syllable so that her words took up more space than they deserved.

“Please. You’re just using us to get revenge on Bright Moon. We’ve barely had a day off since the school year started. New flash: our lives don’t revolve around field hockey. We have other things to worry about.”

A sickening smile stretched across Coach Weaver’s face. “Of course they don’t. How is Adora, by the way?”

Catra’s lip twitched, threatening a snarl. “This isn’t about her.”

“Isn’t it always, with you? I’m so glad she’s doing better. I saw her in the hospital that day, you know. That sweet girl...she wouldn’t stop asking about you. Delirious, too. I wonder what it was like for her to remember what you did, relive it all over again.”

“You’re lying,” Catra insisted.

“Angella and I waited for the all-clear. One of my players caused the entire incident, after all. Why would I lie about such a thing?”

The half-truths, the guilt. It was all getting to be too much.

“I stayed to make sure you would be absolved of any responsibility in the matter.”

Catra expected to feel rage clawing at her. Instead, there was something else, something calmer and steadier and unfamiliar. The more lies the coach spun, the more ridiculous she sounded--and apparently she wasn’t done yet.

Coach Weaver must have mistaken Catra’s tranquility for submission. “The Horde takes care of our own.”

All Catra could do was laugh. It was barely a snicker, short and bitter like a hyena’s chuckle. “You covered for me? You really think Adora would have--what, sued the school or something? God, you really are pathetic.”

“What did you call me?” Coach Weaver was hardly composed. Instead of towering fearsomely, forcefully, she seemed to shrink even more. Her eyes were wild, flitting about unfocused. For the first time, Catra found herself with the upper hand.

“I’ve done some dumb stuff, but I’m not gonna pretend it’s not my fault. You scared off half the team before the season even started--and then you pitted the rest of us against each other to find more recruits. That skirmish with Bright Moon freaked you out so much that you couldn’t even be the shitty coach you normally are, so don’t even pretend it’s all my fault. I stepped up. Yeah, I screwed up. But at least I’m owning it.”

Coach Weaver stumbled back toward her desk. 

Catra could have taken the chance to corner her, but her desire for petty revenge had been extinguished. She’d set herself apart and done something the coach could never do by accepting her mistakes. And that was enough for now.

“Listen to me, Catra--”

“Hmm...nah. You’ll just try to tell me that I’m being stupid, or reckless, or some other thing that’s a little bit true and mostly bullshit. Now, are we done here?” It was the kind of question that maliciously rejected the possibility of an answer.

Coach Weaver sat back against her desk, stunned into silence. Now _that_ was a wish Catra never would have imagined might come true.

She let the door to the office close behind her.

***

“No, no, no, no, _no!”_ Glimmer yelled. Across from her, Bow resembled a startled rabbit.

Adora, still standing with her tray in hand, backed away from the lunch table slowly. “Ooookay, I’ll sit somewhere else.”

“No, I didn’t--” Glimmer held up her phone. Her big eyes were shimmering with stressed-out tears. “The DJ just canceled.”

Sure enough, there was a short but pointed text on the screen. Adora read it out. “‘Can’t do Saturday. Something came up. -CJ.’ Wait, he’s a DJ named CJ?”

“Isn’t it great?” Bow giggled.

Glimmer scowled. “No, Bow. It’s not great. CJ flaked and our DJ deposit is gone. Now what are we supposed to do?”

“I could send you my Spotify playlist,” Bow suggested.

“Thanks, but I don’t think that will work. ‘Cool jamz’ isn’t exactly the vibe we’re going for.”

“Aw,” Bow took a half-hearted bite of his sandwich. “But I see you listening to it all the time.”

“People can see what you listen to?” Adora asked.

Bow raised an eyebrow. “Did you not know that?”

“No. Pfft. Obviously I knew.” Adora waved her hand through the air dismissively. “Totally knew that...”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We’ve all listened to the same song 623 times in a row at least once in our lives.” Bow put a hand on Adora’s.

Glimmer nodded reassuringly. “Sure, maybe we don’t all go for ‘Back to December’ by Taylor Swift, but we support your choices.”

Adora knew, in that moment, that her face was exactly the same color as the tomatoes on Bow’s sandwich. “I don’t even like her. Seriously--”

“Shh. It’s okay, Adora.” Bow patted her hand. “This is a judgment-free space.”

Glimmer cleared her throat. “Well, regardless. We’re not using someone’s Spotify account for a school dance.”

Bow’s brain was clearly working overtime. “I might have a solution. Meet me at the diner after school.”

“Waffles can’t fix everything, Bow,” Glimmer sighed.

“First of all, how dare you. Second, the waffles are a bonus.” With that, he popped the last piece of his sandwich in his mouth and slid his chair away from the table. “I gotta go cram for my math test. See you guys later.”

“Wait!” Glimmer demanded. “This problem is very far from fixed!”

“Don’t worry. I’m on it!” He called back.

“That was...weird,” Adora said.

Glimmer just shook her head.

***

Glimmer fidgeted in her side of the booth. “Did they get new cushions?”

From across the table, Bow gave her a sympathetic look. “Glimmer, you don’t have to be nervous. I promise my solution is going to be great.”

“So why couldn’t you tell us what it was before?” Adora asked from Bow’s side.

“I wanted to be super sure it would work before I got your hopes up.”

The diner door burst open. Bow started waving, a huge smile plastered on his face. “They’re here!”

Adora’s eyes went wide when she saw who it was. “Entrapta?”

“You’re alive!” The purple-haired girl waved back and practically skipped over to join them. She slid into the booth next to Glimmer--and a moment later, someone else squished in on the other side, crushing Adora into Bow’s shoulder.

“Oop, pardon me,” Scorpia said. “You guys mind if we squeeze?”

“It’s--fine--” Bow grunted, his face so close to the window that his breath fogged up the glass.

“Ah, my bad.”

The pressure against Adora’s ribcage vanished as suddenly as it had come. With a loud screech, Scorpia grabbed a chair from another table and pulled it up to the end.

As soon as Bow caught his breath again, he looked positively giddy. “You guys, I’m so glad we could do this.”

Glimmer’s forehead smacked against the table. She looked up just enough to glare at Bow. “I thought you said you had a solution.”

“Right. Business time.” He cleared his throat and turned to face Scorpia at the end of the table. “Scorpia. If you will.”

Scorpia folded her prosthetic hands on the table in front of her. “Thank you for calling this meeting, Bow. Glimmer, your colleague tells me that you wish to procure my client’s services this Saturday.”

Glimmer looked between the two of them, finally landing on Bow. “Client? _Colleague?_ What the hell is going on?”

“Oh, uh, I’m Entraptra’s manager. I don’t have business cards yet, but I can write my info on a napkin if you want.”

“That’s fine, Scorpia,” Glimmer said. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Entrapta pulled a set of headphones out of the front pocket of her overalls. “I’ve played at six different festivals and eighteen underground concerts, three of which were _actually_ underground. You can Google it if you want. Here’s my demo.” She poked an earbud into Glimmer’s right ear and pressed play on a phone.

“Listen, I really appreciate you guys coming, but--” Glimmer stopped. Her eyebrows slowly rose up her forehead as she listened to the music.

“Good, right?” Bow said.

“It’s _really_ good.” Glimmer listened for another second and then took the earbud out. Her face fell. “I wish we could bring you on, but we don’t have anything left in the budget.”

Scorpia cleared her throat again. Clearly this was some kind of nervous tic--being a manager didn’t exactly suit her. “My client is prepared to offer three hours of free spinning.”

Entrapta held up a finger. “As long as I get to play at least three original songs in return.”

Glimmer looked like she might cry tears of joy. “Really? Oh, you guys are the best!” She pulled Entrapta into a hug.

“Uhhh...sure.” Entrapta said. “No problem. How long do your hugs usually last?”

Fortunately, Glimmer got the hint and released her.

Scorpia rubbed the back of her neck. “We, uh--we felt bad. About the game.”

Entrapta nodded. “Those sticks needed weeks more of testing before anyone should have used them, but...well, Catra’s a little scary.”

Everyone at the table looked at Adora like they expected her to say something. She’d come along mostly to make sure that Glimmer didn’t have an anxiety attack before her waffles arrived. No way she was talking about this. 

“Adora?” Bow asked from her side. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Great,” she answered, willing her own mood to lift. “We’ve got a DJ and milkshakes on the way. Couldn’t be better.”

Bow leaned in and whispered, “I think you’re overdoing it.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Catra’s having a rough time, too,” Scorpia offered without prompting.

It very much did not make Adora feel better.

Entrapta pressed a button on a palm-sized case and her earbuds zipped up into it. “You guys should hear what she said to Coach Weaver.”

“What?” Adora didn’t exactly want to stay on the topic of her former-best-friend-turned-maybe-girlfriend-turned-rival, but her interest was piqued.

“I’m tapped into Weaver’s cameras. Her firewalls are practically nonexistent,” Entrapta said casually.

Glimmer flinched a little. “She has her own cameras?”

“She can be the teensiest bit paranoid,” Scorpia whispered. She put her hand over her mouth, moving it only slightly to speak again. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“That seems extreme,” Bow commented.

“It is!” Entrapta’s eyes lit up. “There’s only one real blind spot in her entire network. It’s incredible.”

“Entrapta. What happened?” Adora pressed the issue. This was a group of people who could get very, very distracted by tangents (herself included). But this was too important.

“Oh, right,” Entrapta reoriented herself like a GPS correcting course. “So Catra quit and then--”

Adora cut her off. “She quit?! Sorry, keep going.”

Scorpia jumped in. “Marched right up to practice with this scary look on her face. Coach Weaver got real mad. _Real mad.”_

Huh. Maybe this was making Adora feel better after all. 

Entrapta unzipped her backpack and started rummaging around in one of its many, many pockets. “You’re gonna love this. Where did I put it...Aha!” She extracted a tiny screen from the nest of wires and cords. “I’m honestly surprised both of them left alive.”

She passed the device across the table, a dozen wires trailing behind it. On the screen was a bird’s eye view of Coach Weaver’s office (or, as the previous year’s seniors had christened it, the Fright Zone).

“No screens!” Glimmer squeaked.

Adora ignored the reminder. Her head hadn’t bothered her for a few days, and the school nurse had cleared her to return to homework as usual.

At Entrapta’s suggestion, Adora plugged a pair of headphones in and watched. It started off like she expected: Coach Weaver’s intimidating silence, Catra’s eye rolls and snark. Adora managed to skim over the fact that even her former coach had picked up on whatever she and Catra had going on between them. And then Catra started laughing. _Laughing._ Suddenly she was standing taller and hurling vicious truths right back at the coach. _Pathetic. Bullshit._ Plenty of things that could definitely land her in detention.

 _“Now, are we done here?”_ Catra’s voice was so...strong. So sure. There wasn’t a single note of doubt in her words, in her stance.

Adora’s heart swelled. She knew she was probably crying, but she didn’t care. No one at this particular booth in the diner would judge her for it.

The screen went dark. Then the video started playing again from the beginning. Catra was back in the chair, absently cleaning her fingernails. _“Can we get this over with?”_

Some kind of laugh-sob escaped Adora’s throat.

“Is this a good thing? I can’t tell,” Entrapta asked Glimmer.

“It’s a good thing,” Bow reassured her.

Adora put the device down on the table and steadied her breathing. Her chest felt lighter, her shoulders less tense. “She finally did it.”

“I don’t mean to pry,” Scorpia started, tapping the tips of her first fingers together, “but I think Catra really misses her best friend.”

“Yeah,” Adora replied. _Me too._

***

Catra’s bed was, without a doubt, the only good place left on the planet. Nothing mattered when she was wrapped in three fleece blankets. She could feel her unfinished homework staring at her from across the room, but as far as she was concerned there was a forcefield around her bed that stripped all of the power from those evil math problems.

Typically, Catra’s procrastination habits included a lot more Netflix, but she didn’t even have the mental capacity to stare at a screen after the day she’d had. After her cathartic blowup in Coach Weaver’s office, she’d felt invigorated for all of twenty minutes before crashing hard. Who knew that telling off your emotionally manipulative mentor could be so exhausting? Catra had been napping on and off for over three hours, and the only thing even mildly encouraging her to get out of bed was the ominous grumbling in her stomach. Apparently she’d worked up an appetite with all that sassing and sleeping.

Just as she was about to roll out of bed, she heard her phone ringing on her nightstand--but she didn’t remember setting an alarm...

Oh. Not an alarm. Cool.

Why was Adora calling her? Only one way to find out.

She answered the call and couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

_“Hello? Catra?”_

Catra cleared her throat, hoping she might find some words stuck back there. “Hey.”

_“Hi.”_

“Uh...why are you calling me?” Catra rolled over, pulling her blankets around her and wrapping herself in a cocoon.

She could practically hear Adora’s heart sink. _“Oh. No reason, I guess. Well, there is, actually. A reason.”_

“Okay...?”

Adora was quiet for a moment. Then: _“You left the Horde?”_

Catra’s mind went blank again. She’d never considered the possibility that Adora might find out about her quitting. Would it have meant anything to her before? Did it mean anything now?

_“Entrapta told me.”_

“So the mad genius really is a spy.”

Adora laughed. Oh, how the sound make Catra’s chest ache. _“She’d probably be the worst spy in history.”_

“Yeah. Probably.” Catra flipped onto her back, allowing her blankets to release their vice grip just a little.

_“So...I know you’re probably still mad at me, and you have every right to be after what I said. But I just wanted to tell you...I mean, you stood up to Coach Weaver. That’s--”_

“Badass?”

_“I was gonna say brave, but badass works.”_

Catra snickered to herself.

_“I’m really proud of you, Catra.”_

Oh. That was unexpected. Catra’s laughter died before it could roll off her tongue.

_“And I know that probably doesn’t mean a lot considering, well, everything, but I was wrong. You proved me wrong.”_

Catra sat up. The blankets fell limply around her.

_“Are you still there?”_

“Yeah.” Her voice was more hoarse than she remembered from just seconds before.

_“Well...that's all. I guess I’ll let you go, then.”_

“Wait,” Catra heard herself say.

_“Okay.”_

Stupid. Catra didn’t know what she wanted to say. Adora was going to hang up on her before she--

_“Hello?”_

“Give me a second.”

Okay. Quiet. She could think now, block out that stupid little voice that was so determined to knock her confidence to its knees. It couldn’t stop her anymore.

“You weren’t wrong. When you said I was acting like her. I was.”

_“Catra--”_

“No, I was. I didn’t realize it until you hit me over the head with it.”

Adora hesitated. _“You’re welcome?”_

“Dumbass,” Catra said back, far more affection coloring the word than she intended.

That familiar teasing tone edged its way into Adora’s voice. _“Hey, I might be a dumbass, but at least I’m not a smartass.”_

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

_“Figure it out, since you’re so smart.”_

Catra snorted.

Adora’s voice changed. Suddenly, it was that impossible combination of soft and blunt that only Adora could pull off. _“You are, you know. Smart. And brave. And a lot of other good stuff.”_

Catra couldn’t blame her blankets for how warm she felt. “Thanks, Adora.” She bit her tongue, but the words insisted on being heard. “You are, too.”

_“Aww.”_

“Shut up, nerd,” Catra said just as her stomach roared again.

_“What was that?”_

Catra looked down at her belly. “I should really eat dinner.”

Adora laughed again. Catra wished she could bottle the sound up and keep it in her pocket. _“Okay. Go feed the beast.”_

“I will.”

And then there was a moment when neither of them said anything. Either could have filled the space--but it wasn’t the time to say anything else that mattered. They’d managed to sew up the wound, but lifting anything heavy or fragile could bust those stitches right back open. Better to let it rest. Wait.

“Bye, Adora.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends! tonight i'm doing a recording session for my first real voice acting role and i'm fuckin' AMPED about it!!! it's been a chaotic week to say the least but i hope you enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it ^__^
> 
> also, i must deliver the bittersweet news that this will be the penultimate chapter in this work :o next week i'll be posting the final installment...........the dance
> 
> get ready u gays <3


	18. Chapter 18

All the spreadsheets in the world couldn’t have prepared Glimmer’s committee for the overwhelming task of decorating the Bright Moon student center for homecoming. According to the school, they could expect between 175 and 250 people. Glimmer made it very clear, in several agitated phone calls, that 175-250 was absolutely _not_ a reasonable margin. How were they supposed to buy enough food? What if they bought too much food? If too many people showed up, how were they ever going to manage fire safety?

Adora’s most important job (next to her Snack Coordinator duties, of course) was keeping Glimmer calm so that Bow could take care of any final, little chores before they ever made it onto Glimmer’s radar. She’d done enough in the weeks leading up to the dance, and she definitely didn’t need to worry about buying extra trash bags.

There was one emergency, however, that Adora and Bow unfortunately couldn’t hide. It was--of course--a last-minute dress fiasco. On Saturday morning, less than twelve hours before the dance, Glimmer realized that she’d never bought a dress. With all of the chaos and injuries, they’d never followed through on their plan to go shopping.

“Two words: thrift store,” Bow announced gleefully.

Apparently this was an activity that some people found enjoyable, but Adora didn’t really get it. She spent the entire hour-long excursion wondering how the experience of thrift shopping was different from regular shopping. Both were tiring and rather boring if you weren’t the person looking for something. When she asked him to explain why this was supposed to be more fun, Bow just stared at her like her head had suddenly turned into a lemon.

Glimmer tried on six very sparkly outfits before stepping out of the fitting room in a deep purple, mid-thigh dress with a layered skirt. Adora had plucked it off the rack on a whim because she felt about not contributing anything to Glimmer’s potential wardrobe options.

“What do you think?” Glimmer asked. Based on how poorly she was hiding a grin, her own feelings about the dress were fairly clear.

“You’re buying it,” Bow insisted.

Glimmer did one last twirl. As the poofy skirt settled from the spinning, her grin suddenly vanished. “Bow, we won’t be matching if I wear this.”

“That’s okay,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “We don’t have to match at every single dance. If you like this dress, you should wear it.”

She disappeared back into the fitting room and continued, grumbling. “Ugh. I wish I’d planned better. We could have ordered you a cummerbund and everything.”

“You know I prefer to fly bund-less.”

Glimmer popped out of the fitting room, new dress in hand. “What are you wearing, Adora?”

“Hm?” Adora perked up. She’d maybe zoned out a little.

“To the dance. What are you wearing?”

“Oh. I’m not going,” Adora said matter-of-factly.

Bow’s jaw dropped.

Adora looked between him and Glimmer (who was wearing a similar expression to when she realized, moments earlier, that she and Bow wouldn’t be matching).

“What?” Adora asked. “I said I’d help plan it.”

“You have to come!” Glimmer nearly shouted. A few other thrift shoppers glanced over at her.

Adora shrugged. “I don’t like dancing.”

“There’ll be plenty of other stuff to do. Like hanging out with us,” Bow said, nudging Adora with his elbow.

“Bow, I’m not gonna have fun. I don’t have a dress, I don’t have dance moves, and I--” She cut herself off.

“No third thing?” Bow asked.

Glimmer nodded. “I think that’s a sign.”

Adora finished her thought, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “I don’t have a date.”

Her somber tone was enough to quiet them for a few hours, but their pestering resumed hours later while the committee was putting the final touches on the setup. Entrapta had about a thousand feet of extension cords running from classrooms to the student center. She was in the middle of conducting her sound check when Bow and Glimmer hopped up next to her and grabbed the microphone.

“Adora,” Bow started.

Glimmer put on a huge smile and spoke into the mic. “Will you please come to homecoming with us?”

They just weren’t the kind of friends who gave up easily. Adora knew they were just trying to distract her, get her mind off of all the awful things from the past month for a night. She couldn’t help but appreciate the effort. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to give the dance a shot. This most very definitely did not mean she would actually be dancing at any point.

“Well, I can’t say no to a public proposal,” Adora joked. 

The smiles on her friends’ faces were worth it, honestly.

***

Without field hockey practice eating her evenings and Saturdays, Catra suddenly had a whole lot of free time. It was nice for the first few days, but then it was just...boring. She hadn’t realized just how much of her social life was based around the Horde--which is to say, all of it. Sure, she didn’t usually bother sitting at the team lunch table or going to casual dinners with the squad, but she missed being invited. Inviting Adora over was obviously out of the question. Things were still weird and confusing. And so, Catra’s exciting Saturday night plans included rewatching a movie she’d already seen twice and burning a bag of microwave popcorn. Great. Awesome.

She practically choked on a charred kernel when she heard her phone buzzing. Scorpia.

“Why are you calling me?” Catra asked, picking up the phone.

 _“Hey! What are you up to tonight?”_ Scorpia’s ability to breeze past Catra’s surly greeting was equally amusing and annoying. Catra must have been terribly desperate for company because she consciously switched off the sarcasm.

“Literally nothing,” she replied, dreading the answer to her following question. “Why?”

_“Entrapta’s playing at a concert tonight!”_

That was...much cooler than Catra anticipated.

_“Okay, it’s more of a rave. A dance. It’s the Bright Moon dance.”_

Catra sighed. “Seriously, Scorpia?”

_“Well, see, the thing is...she invited me, but she’s gonna be DJing the whole time, and I wanna support her, of course, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna run into some old Bright Moon pals, you know?”_

“Was that one sentence?” Catra sifted through her bag of popcorn in a futile search for an unburnt piece.

_“Hey, you had fun at the lockdown, right? Until Coach Weaver did the whole...thing she does.”_

“Yeah,” Catra scoffed. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

_“Absolutely my bad. That one’s totally on me. So can I make it up to you by getting you into a super fun dance with great music?”_

“How did this turn into a thing I want to go to at all?”

_“Adora’s gonna be there.”_

Catra paused. Was that a good thing? Yes? No. Maybe? “I don’t have an outfit.” It was an absolute lie, but it was the best excuse Catra could come up with on such short notice. Most of her brain was busy trying to ignore the image of Adora all dressed up, the two of them taking cheesy pictures in a photo booth (did people still do that?), maybe kissing in the photo booth...

_“And like I said, the music’ll be great--”_

“Fine,” Catra interrupted. “But only because I’m bored out of my mind.”

_“Uh-huh.”_

“This has nothing to do with Adora.”

_“Uh-huh. Sure, Catra.”_

“Scorpia--”

_“I’ll swing by your place in an hour!”_

Catra heard a click as Scorpia hung up.

Well. She had an hour--better not waste it.

***

Nothing sucked the magic out of an event like personally hanging each and every streamer only to watch freshmen rip them all down in the first ten minutes. A huge pack of them came in right at the official start of the dance, eager and ready to destroy all of the committee’s hard work in a competition to prove who could jump highest. Glimmer managed to keep from yelling, but only because one of her song requests came on right when she was marching towards the posse of freshmen. She and Bow went off to dance, but Adora didn’t feel up to it just yet. Alright, maybe she was stalling a little bit and hoping that no one would notice if she stood in the same place for three hours. When Bow and Glimmer left, the fact that Adora was the only person in the room not dancing became blatantly clear. Somehow it made her particularly thirsty, so she slipped out and found her way to the water fountains. She might have hung out by them for an extra thirty minutes or so.

The dance was going well, streamer damage notwithstanding. People were trickling into the decked-out student center steadily now, and Entrapta’s first original song of the night sounded like it went over well. No disasters yet.

As she watched couples and groups file into the dance, Adora smiled. Everything was going as planned.

A flash of stark white and black passed in front of her quickly.

“Scorpia?”

“Oh, hey, girl! Listen, I’d love to stop and chat with you and your water fountain pals, but I gotta get in there. I told Entrapta I wouldn’t miss--”

“No problem,” Adora broke in.

“You coming?”

“In a few.” That was the excuse she’d made twenty minutes ago. Fifteen minutes ago. Ten minutes ago.

When the distant doors closed behind Scorpia, Adora was alone in the hallway. At least for a moment. She took a deep breath, hoping to psych herself up enough to go back inside. It didn’t work.

Footsteps approached from around the corner. Whoever it was, they were clearly in no hurry. Adora might have guessed that they were stopping to scan every poster and announcement on the bulletin boards lining the hall. Once Adora saw who the footsteps belonged to, however, she knew that was very much not the case.

A loosely tied combat boot peeked around the corner. The laces disappeared under a fitted maroon trouser leg. Adora took in the matching jacket, magenta shirt, untied bowtie, and wild brown hair that somehow fit into the whole look perfectly. She must have been staring--her gaze finally settled on a familiar smirk, freckles, eyes like precious stones.

***

Catra would be lying if she said she didn’t absolutely love the awestruck look on Adora’s face. Her smugness only lasted a second, however--Adora had the audacity to look like some kind of Olympic goddess in a simple red halter dress. How was Catra supposed to stay cool around that?

“Um...surprise?” Catra managed to say.

“Yeah,” Adora replied. Good--knowing that they were both having a hard time finding words might make this a little easier.

They were alone in the hallway, for now, but the idea of shouting over Entrapta’s music was...well, it wasn't good. Catra swallowed hard and walked right up to Adora. She hadn’t exactly practiced in the mirror, but she had a good idea of what she wanted to say. Next time maybe she’d make flashcards.

Catra shifted her weight, failing to find a perfectly comfortable position to have a very uncomfortable conversation. If she waited much longer, it would get weird. _Here goes, I guess._

***

“So...obviously this whole stupid mess wasn’t your fault.”

“Obviously,” Adora repeated. The tone bordered on teasing, fueling Catra’s hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t a lost cause. 

“Hey, I’m trying to apologize. Stop being an asshole.”

Adora smiled, and Catra’s heart cracked open. All of the ugly things she’d pushed down for so long started to wither like weeds on the first hot day of summer. 

“Remember when you said you felt like Coach Weaver was still in your head?” Like a termite, or a tick.

Adora nodded and placed her hand on Catra’s cheek, hoping it would offer some grounding. She’d never seen Catra look so soft, so willing to point to the weak spots in her own armor. 

“I think I...I felt the same way when you said it. But it sucked, so I tried not to think about it.” 

“I get that,” Adora reassured her. “But can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah,” Catra said, a little distracted by how much closer Adora had gotten over the course of the conversation. 

When Adora’s hand slipped away, Catra felt a tug in her stomach begging the warmth against her cheek to be more than just a ghost. Then her eyes opened again, focusing on the face in front of her. 

“Why’d you take it out on me?”

And Catra’s heart split clean in half. 

“I’m so sorry—” was all Catra could manage before a wracking sob rose in her throat. Both of her hands covered her face. She shouldn’t be upset right now, but knowing that she’d hurt Adora was the worst pain imaginable. Adora was the bravest, strongest, and kindest person on the planet, willing to face anything in spite of her own fear. Sandbox bullies. Cruel, vindictive, twisted authority figures. Falling in love with her best friend. Even if she was terrified on the inside, terrified on the outside, Adora was always brave enough to be honest. It was amazing.

Inspiring. 

“I was scared,” Catra finally said. “I kept thinking I was never gonna be good enough. Not for my parents and teachers, or Coach Weaver...or you.” 

Adora didn’t say anything. She just watched Catra, letting the tears fall instead of forcing them back and blurring her vision. 

Catra went on. “It wasn’t fair.” She bit her tongue before she could fall into the familiar trap of self-doubt and deprecation. “To either of us.”

Adora nodded. She was standing there with tears streaking her cheeks, and Catra wanted to do nothing more than hold her. Despite the silent crying, Adora stood tall. She wanted to hear this, every word, and she wasn’t going to break until Catra was finished. 

“You’re just...” With a shallow, shuddering breath, Catra continued, “seriously amazing, and it was easier to get all angry and jealous.”

“Easier than what?” Adora’s voice was so quiet that Catra could barely hear her question. The characteristic boldness in those stormy gray eyes softened into something so fragile that Catra could barely stand to see it laid out so plainly. Trust—Adora was letting go of a cliff’s edge and plummeting with nothing strapped to her back but the radical hope that someone would catch her at the bottom. Words alone couldn’t do such a brazen leap justice. 

Catra hesitated for the briefest of seconds. Something flickered across Adora’s expression like a candle’s final, twitching wave as it snuffs out. She dropped her gaze to the the floor. 

No. Catra’s fear wouldn’t cause Adora any more pain. It was time for Catra to be the brave one. 

She reached for Adora’s hand, brushing her fingers just enough to make Adora look at her.

“Hey, Adora?” 

“Yeah?” 

That fragile spark returned to Adora’s eyes, and Catra kissed her. 

In that kiss, she let herself say everything she’d held back the first time. All those things that could sprout claws and carve her heart out—she left them in Adora’s hands. Underneath it all, she found a wish, a single hope hiding at the bottom of this box of truly terrifying emotions. _Please protect this._ She took a moment to breathe, then dared to let it slip from her grasp. 

Adora would have stayed there in that kiss forever if her traitorous lungs didn’t start demanding air. Beyond reluctant, she broke away, settling her forehead against Catra’s while she caught her breath. But Catra, of course, had the audacity to knock the wind out of her all over again. 

“I’m...in love with you.”

Her words came out slowly, painstakingly, as if she was asking for permission. 

Adora’s surprise got the better of her, and her mouth responded before her brain could. “Really?” 

“You think I made that whole speech for fun? That was horrible.” 

Adora tapped her chin. “Hm. Who else here could possibly know what it’s like to tell your best friend you have feelings for her? Oh, wait.” 

Catra kissed her again just to scrub the smug look off her face.

“You know what is fun, though?” Adora asked, her breath fluttering over Catra’s lips.

“Are you gonna tell me?” 

“Dancing.” Adora stepped back and offered her hand. 

Catra stared at it for a moment and looked up at Adora dumbly. “You hate dancing.”

“Not with you, I don’t.” 

With their fingers intertwined, they walked back to the dance floor. Well, Adora was doing something between walking and excited skipping, and Catra was coolly following a pace behind. 

Entrapta’s playlist for the evening was mostly upbeat, fun-to-jump-to songs with a few slower ones sprinkled in. She slipped in one hardstyle track, which inspired some people to run out to get water and others to form a prototype mosh pit.

Glimmer and Bow grabbed Adora when “Mr. Brightside” started playing and tried to reach her some very elaborate choreography. Around 9:00 one of those songs that tells everyone what moves to do came on. Catra tried to slip away for a water break, but Scorpia dragged her back to the dance floor and made her promise to stay for at least the first chorus. Three choruses later, Catra finally made it to the water fountain. 

She didn’t realize that being stuck in a pack of sweaty teenagers could actually be fun. Who knew? Plus, water tasted about a thousand times better after an hour and a half of dancing. She wiped a few drops of water from her lips and straightened her jacket. Why did she still have this thing on? It was the most important part of the outfit, sure, but no one was paying attention in a dark, strobe-lighty room. She shrugged the jacket off and went back for one a last sip of water. The music was loud enough that she could tell what song was playing from the hallway outside the student center, and she could tell it was almost over. People were screaming along, but it still wasn’t enough to drown out the pounding bass. 

Footsteps echoed somewhere down the hall. Whoever they belonged to wasn’t quite confident walking in heels, but their effort was commendable. Catra glanced up and saw Glimmer, her sparkling purple dress even more dazzling in steady light. 

“Are you coming back soon?” Glimmer asked. 

Catra was a little surprised at the eagerness in her voice. “Uh, yeah. Just needed a sec.”

“Good. You should hurry.” 

“Why?”

“Because I helped with the playlist and I think you’ll want to be back soon.” With that, Glimmer pivoted, barely catching herself as her balance wobbled. “Ugh. Stupid lady-stilts.” She stepped out of the infernal shoes and deftly picked them up before leaving. 

When the pumping bass stop ripping through the walls, she took it as her cue to return.

Just as she walked in, the first lyrics of the next song came on. It was one of those cheesy piano ballads that she hated, but she couldn’t help but notice the tension in her stomach. Maybe these songs were a little less annoying when you finally understood them. 

She spotted Glimmer, Bow, and Adora at the back of the crowd slow dancing together in a triangle. 

It was definitely awkward, given the height discrepancies in the group, but they were all yelling along to the song in a beautiful cacophony. Adora would have had it no other way. Mermista drifted past the trio and shot them a glare, but she gave up the aloof act as soon as Sea Hawk spun her into his arms and started serenading her. Mermista barely even rolled her eyes. 

As soon as the song hit the high note at the start of the chorus, Bow’s voice cracked spectacularly. They all laughed, swaying in some semblance of rhythm. When Adora recovered from the giggling, she saw Catra approaching them. As she got closer, Adora noticed that she was very deliberately looking anywhere but in the direction she was walking. If anyone could rival Mermista for “most obviously trying to be chill but failing spectacularly,” there she was, striding across the floor with her jacket slung over one shoulder. So casual. 

When Catra finally got to their group, she put a hand each on Glimmer and Bow’s outer shoulders. “You guys mind if I cut in?”

“Not at all, Lady Catra,” Bow said, breaking the triangle and sweeping his arm across his body in a dramatic, low bow. 

Glimmer squeezed Adora’s shoulder and smiled. “We’ll see you guys later.” She took Bow’s arm and they waded into the crowd. 

This time, Catra was the one to offer her hand. Adora took it, guiding it until it landed on her waist. The look of mild shock on Catra’s face was priceless. Adora took the opportunity to grab Catra’s other hand and interlace their fingers, coaxing her closer until there was just a sliver of space between them. Adora sort of wished Catra was still wearing her jacket so she could feel the velvety lapel under her right palm, but after a moment she noticed something so much better. With her hand on Catra’s upper chest, she could just make out her heart beat. “Racing” wouldn’t exactly do it justice. “Kickboxing” seemed more appropriate. 

Adora was pretty sure that kissing Catra wasn’t going to calm either of their hammering hearts, but she did it anyway.

“I love you, too,” Adora said.

They danced, the love song in the background a timid suggestion by comparison.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all, folks!!! thanks to everyone who's supported this story <3 i had so much fun writing it and i hope you enjoyed keeping up with it. 
> 
> if you want to send me prompts or chat or whatever, i'm over on tumblr as somnambule-plus. love you all! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Updates weekly by Saturday noon CST!
> 
> (Extra credit to anyone who knows where the title comes from!)


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